History (n.) needs principles to be rational — but without living men there is no history at all.
History (n.) must not be thought about too much, or you run the risk of being disgusted with it.
History (n.) talks about what has existed — and an existent can never justify the existence of another existent.
History (n.) escapes me not because I do not make it, but because the other is making it as well.
History (n.) cuts both ways — how can man make it if at the same time it is History which makes him?
History (n.) is made by men, not avalanches — reduce human action to a physical force and you can no longer speak of anyone making it.
History (n.) is less genuine than fiction: the characters in a novel would have a more genuine appearance, or at least be more agreeable.
History (n.) will one day have only one meaning, dissolved in the concrete men who make it in common — bringing that moment closer is our historical task.
History (n.) keeps its order outside the facts: the hypotheses are only a way of unifying my own knowledge, and the facts adapt themselves to that order.
History (n.) is made in our time without self-awareness: Marxism, which once clarified it, now casts a shadow over it by trying to reduce change to identity.
History (n.) is made each day by our hands into something other than what we believe we are making, and it backfires to make us other than we believe ourselves to be.
History (n.) is made by men on the basis of prior conditions, but it is the men who make it and not the conditions, for otherwise they would be mere vehicles of inhuman forces.
History (n.) is often, for the sociologist, only the movement that disarranges the lines of division, while for the historian the very permanence of structures is a perpetual change.
History (n.) resists any a priori schematism once it has been lived: made and known incident by incident, it must be the object of a complete experience, not the dead, transparent object of an immutable Knowledge.
History (n.) looks to men like an alien force exactly to the extent that they fail to see the meaning of their undertaking in the overall result, though all men made it: man objectifies himself in it and is alienated there.
History (n.) is pure subjectivity and closed in on itself. There is no outside view. The absolute is not God's point of view on history, it is the way in which each man and each concrete collectivity lives its history. By renouncing the transcendent absolute you do not fall into relativism, you render to man his absolute value.