History (n.) is not contained in thick books but lives in our very blood.
History (n.) is not changed by external events; they are occasions for an attitude long prepared in the collective unconscious, which intuitive individuals translate into ideas that spread because others are ready — and that arrive in an extremely unacceptable form.
History (n.) is a mere arsenal of convenient arguments for a consciousness grown only in space and not in time — "Why, even old Aristotle knew that."
History (n.) has been, from the very start, a fight between man's sense of inferiority and his arrogance; wisdom takes the middle way and pays for it with a doubtful kinship to daemon and beast.
History (n.) keeps Europeans in contact with the unconscious — and holds them so fast in its vice that the greatest catastrophes are needed to change their politics from what they were five hundred years ago.
History (n.) is not contained in thick books but lives in our very blood: deviate slightly from the past and you meet its full inertia.
History (n.) makes sense where things recently began to take shape and seemed to be going somewhere; in India nothing has not lived a hundred thousand times before — why any history?
History (n.) is written in the blood: Western man cannot shed his past as easily as his short-legged memory can.
History (n.) could be constructed — cum grano salis — just as easily from one's own unconscious as from the actual texts.
History (n.) seen from the psyche is a drama that began in the grey mists of antiquity and runs into a remote future — an "Aurora consurgens," the dawning of consciousness in mankind.
History (n.) lives in the patient: psychic modes of behaviour are eminently historical, and the symbolic language of dreams releases a man from the egocentric prison of a purely personal self-understanding.
History (n.) can be read by finding the backward step inside each advance, the evil inside each good, the error inside each truth — so that even totalitarian madness might seed a nobler culture.
History (n.) is the saurian's tail of our psychology — family, nation, Europe and world; only angels, all head and wings, can do as they please.
History (n.) is made by some people while others build a little house in the suburbs; Mussolini is not explained by saying he has a power complex.
History (n.) prepares itself in the collective unconscious of individuals; our personal psychology is a thin skin, a ripple on that ocean, and archetypes, not reason, decide events.
History (n.) is in the psyche as in the body, both being deeply historical structures; Jung's mythological learning was no hobby of curiosities but a tool for understanding the diseased mind.