History (n.) begins when Reason admits it cannot ground the laws a people lives by, and accepts them as a positive given.
History (n.) is always a history of the present, read against the alternative history we think we should follow now.
History (n.) in a true break is not the loss or gain of something but a shift in the very grid by which losses and gains are measured.
History (n.) is itself one long trial by combat, accepted as deciding everything by the very rationalists who jeer at the medieval ordeal.
History (n.) does repeat itself, as Hegel said; what he forgot to add, said Marx, is that it happens first as tragedy and then as farce.
History (n.) is not an opaque force that breaks into our intimate lives; it is a field we are always already engaged in, even in ignorance.
History (n.) seen from the Absolute keeps the book and discards the war: the Peloponnesian War happened so that Thucydides could write about it.
History (n.) proper is only a moment — even if an unending one, lasting centuries — the passage from pre-capitalist societies that do not yet know it to a capitalism that has already lost it.
History (n.) differs from animal evolution by its reference to a non-historical place — the empty, indigestible spot of the Thing that symbolization itself secretes.
History (n.) as we live it is itself a realized alternative history: the reality we must inhabit because, in the past, we failed to seize the moment.
History (n.) is not about a teleological progress toward the absolute consolidation of spirit, but rather about its self-division or 'the inherent self-distancing of the one itself'.
History (n.) is like a photographic plate: the past leaves images on it, but only the future has developers strong enough to bring out the picture in all its detail.
History (n.) in its materialist form must read the actual past against the alternative histories that were repressed and that break in from time to time as returns of the repressed.
History (n.) rewritten after Beria's fall asked every subscriber to cut out his pages and insert an entry on the Bering Strait, restoring a wholeness for a nonexistent subject supposed to believe, since each subscriber did the cutting himself.
History (n.) feels like Destiny to those engaged in it; only looking back can we see the alternatives — the reverse of the existentialist commonplace.