Hhh Quotes

How many forgotten heroes sleep in history's great cemetery?

Memory is of no use to the remembered, only to those who remember. We build ourselves with memory and console ourselves with memory.

Connor Crane was currently the secret crush of half the female HHH population. And a couple of the males, too.

The dead are dead, and it makes no difference to them whether I pay homage to their deeds. But for us, the living, it does mean something. Memory is of no use to the remembered, only to those who remember. We build ourselves with memory and console ourselves with memory.

This scene is not really useful, and on top of that I practically made it up. I don't think I'm going to keep it.

…the thread of knowledge, once you pull at it, continues unraveling on its own.

Sometimes, after all, there is a bit of justice in this mean, cruel world.

No, it's not invented! What would be the point of 'inventing' Nazism?

Hhh, beginikah nasib mereka yang jatuh cinta. Mencoba menerka-nerka sesuatu yang mungkin sama sekali tidak ada artinya. (270)

Je me souviens d'une interminable digression d'au moins quatre-vingts pages, dans Notre-Dame de Paris, sur le fonctionnement des institutions judiciaires au Moyen Age. J'avais trouvé ça très fort. Mais j'avais sauté le passage.

I’m fighting a losing battle. I can’t tell this story the way it should be told. This whole hotchpotch of characters, events, dates, and the infinite branching of cause and effect - and these people, these real people who actually existed. I’m barely able to mention a tiny fragment of their lives, their actions, their thoughts. I keep banging my head against the wall of history. And I look up and see, growing all over it - ever higher and denser, like a creeping ivy - the unmappable pattern of causality ... How many forgotten heroes sleep in history's great cemetery?

A ce degré de bêtise politique, la trahison devient presque une œuvre d'art.

You had to choose between war and dishonor. You chose dishonor. You will have war.

That scene, like the one before it, is perfectly believable and totally made up

Il me fallut attendre deux ou trois ans pour réellement prendre conscience de ce que j’avais toujours soupçonné : que cette histoire dépassait en romanesque et en intensité les plus improbables fictions.

«Los que han muerto, han muerto, y a ellos les es indiferente que se les rinda algún homenaje. Si hay alguien para quien eso tiene algún significado, es para nosotros, para los vivo. La memoria carece de utilidad para aquellos a quienes honra, pero sirve de mucho a quien se sirve de ella. Con ella me construyo, y con ella me consuelo»

Gabcik - tht's his name - really did exist

He’s a skillful cheat. A trickster. Well … a novelist, basically.

«Para que cualquier cosa pueda penetrar en la memoria, es preciso antes transformarla el literatura. No está bien, pero es así»

«Cuántos héroes olvidados duermen en el gran cementerio de la Historia»

«Dejando aparte toda ficción más o menos ingeniosa, dudo mucho que el destino de una nación, y más aún el del mundo entero, dependa nunca de un solo hombre»

So, to cut a long story short, they jumped.

hui

Damit etwas ins allgemeine Gedächtnis übergeht, muss es zunächst in Literatur verwandelt werden.

Een jonge vrouw die op Natacha lijkt staat op de brug, haar handen op de verschansing, een opgetrokken been dat met de zoom van haar jurk speelt, en ik, misschien ben ik daar ook wel.

«Pasan los meses, se convierten en años, durante los cuales esa historia no deja de crecer en mí. Y mientras transcurre mi vida, hecha como la de todos a base de alegrías, de dramas, de decepciones y de esperanzas personales, los anaqueles de mi apartamento se cubren de libros sobre la Segunda Guerra Mundial»

Eftir margra mánaða undirbúning stendur hún á sér, Sten-vélbyssan snuðar, þessi enski skítahólkur. Heydrich er þarna, rétt fyrir framan hann og byssan hans Gabčíks stendur á sér. Hann hamast á gikknum en í stað þess að frussa út úr sér kúlunum steinþegir Sten-byssan. Fingur Gabčíks kreppast utan um tilgangslausan smábút úr málmi.

Trúði hann á þetta allt saman? Ég held að svo hafi verið. Við trúum alltaf auðveldlega á allt sem gerir okkur hreykin, allt sem kemur sér vel fyrir okkur. Mér verður hugsað til setningar sem Paul Newman sagði: „Ef ég væri ekki bláeygur, þá hefði ferill minn ekki verið jafn glæstur.“ Ég velti því fyrir mér hvort Heydrich hafi hugsað það sama.

Hitler vildi sýna hvað það kostaði að ögra Þriðja ríkinu og Lidice fór með hlutverk hins friðþægjandi fórnarlambs. En með þessum viðbrögðum hafði hann gert mjög alvarleg mistök. Hitler og aðrir í yfirstjórn nasista höfðu fyrir löngu misst alla tilfinningu fyrir meðalhófi og gerðu sér því enga grein fyrir þeirri heimsathygli sem eyðileggingin í Lidice myndi fá.

Ce discours m’inspire trois remarques : 1. En Tchéquie comme ailleurs, l’honneur de l’Education nationale n’est jamais aussi mal défendu que par son ministre. Antinazi virulent à l’origine, Emanuel Moravec est devenu après Munich le collabo le plus actif du gouvernement tchèque nommé par Heydrich, et l’interlocuteur privilégié des Allemands, bien davantage qu’Emil Hácha, le vieux président gâteux. Les livres d’histoire locale ont pris l’habitude de le désigner sous le terme de « Quisling tchèque », du nom de ce fameux collaborateur norvégien, Vidkun Quisling, dont le patronyme, par antonomase, signifie désormais « collabo » dans la majorité des langues européennes. 2. L’honneur de l’Education nationale est bel et bien défendu par les profs qui, quoi qu’on puisse en penser par ailleurs, ont vocation à être des éléments subversifs, et méritent qu’on leur rende hommage pour cela. 3. Le sport, c’est quand même une belle saloperie fasciste.

Память абсолютно бесполезна для тех, кого чтит, она служит тому, чья она. С ее помощью я упорядочиваю свою жизнь, ею я утешаюсь.

Uppreisnin í gettóinu í Varsjá árið 1943 studdi mjög þetta sjónarmið hans því það tók þýska herinn heilar þrjár vikur að bæla uppreisnina niður, auk þess sannaði þetta að það væri eins gott að vara sig á Gyðingum.

THE British foreign minister,

Inventing a character in order to understand historical facts is like fabricating evidence.

Op dat niveau van politieke dwaasheid wordt verraad bijna een kunst. “A ce degré de bêtise politique, la trahison devient presque une œuvre d'art.

Les Bienveillantes, c'est « Houellebecq chez les nazis », tous simplement.

Prudently, night flees the scene.

De doden zijn dood en het maakt niet uit of hun een eer wordt bewezen. Het is voor ons, de levenden, dat het iets betekent. De herinnering heeft geen enkel nut voor hen die ze eert, maar ze dient degenen die zich ervan bedienen. Met mijn herinnering bouw ik mijn identiteit op, met haar troost ik me.

And do not suppose that this is the end. This is only the beginning

«Pero prefiero contar un detalle inútil antes que correr el riego que se me pase un detalle esencial»

«El día del partido, los dos equipos entran en el estadio, lleno a rebosar, y los jugadores alemanes extienden el brazo gritando: “¡Heil Hitler!” Los jugadores ucranianos extienden también el brazo, lo que supone sin duda una gran decepción para el público que, evidentemente, veía en ese partido la oportunidad de demostrar una resistencia simbólica al invasor. Pero en vez de apostillar su gesto con el “Heil Hitler” convenido, los jugadores cierran el puño, cruzan su brazo sobre el pecho y gritan “¡Viva la cultura física!” El slogan, impregnado de connotaciones soviéticas, entusiasma al público»

«Por culpa de gente así, que le hace trampas a la eternidad con la verdad histórica con tal de vender su propio caldo, un viejo amigo, curtido de todo género de ficciones y por tanto fatalmente habituado a esos procedimientos de normalizada falsificación, puede asombrarse inocentemente y preguntarme: “¿Entonces no es inventado?”»

«Sé que reduzco a este hombre al vulgar rango de personaje, y sus actos de la literatura: alquimia infame, pero ¿acaso puedo hacer otra cosa?»

with the formula: “Any similarity of characters

La Historia es la única verdadera fatalidad: se la puede releer en todos los sentidos pero no se la puede reescribir.

Faced with the Führer, Hácha caved in. He declared that the situation was very clear and that all resistance was madness. But it’s already two a.m., and he has only four hours to prevent the Czech people from defending themselves. According to Hitler, the German military machine is already on the march (true) and nothing can stop it (at least, no one seems very keen to try). Hácha must sign the surrender immediately and inform Prague. The choice Hitler is offering could not be simpler: either peace now, followed by a long collaboration between the two nations, or the total annihilation of Czechoslovakia. President Hácha, terrified, is left in a room with Göring and Ribbentrop. He sits at a table, the document before him. All he has to do now is sign it. The pen is in his hand, but his hand is trembling. The pen keeps stopping before it can touch the paper. In the absence of the Führer, who rarely stays to oversee such formalities, Hácha gets jumpy. “I can’t sign this,” he says. “If I sign the surrender, my people will curse me forever.” This is perfectly true. So Göring and Ribbentrop have to convince Hácha that it’s too late to turn back. This leads to a farcical scene where, according to witnesses, the two Nazi ministers literally chase Hácha around the table, repeatedly putting the pen back in his hand and ordering him to sign the bloody thing. At the same time, Göring yells continuously: if Hácha continues to refuse, half of Prague will be destroyed within two hours by the German air force … and that’s just for starters! Hundreds of bombers are waiting for the order to take off, and they will receive that order at 6:00 a.m. if the surrender is not signed. At this crucial moment, Hácha goes dizzy and faints. Now it’s the two Nazis who are terrified, standing there over his inert body. He absolutely must be revived: if he dies, Hitler will be accused of murdering him in his own office. Thankfully, there is an expert injecter in the house: Dr. Morell, who will later inject Hitler with amphetamines several times a day until his death—a medical regime that probably had some link with the Führer’s growing dementia. So Morell suddenly appears and sticks a syringe into Hácha, who wakes up. A telephone is shoved into his hand. Given the urgency of the situation, the paperwork can wait. Ribbentrop has taken care to install a special direct line to Prague. Gathering what is left of his strength, Hácha informs the Czech cabinet in Prague of what is happening in Berlin, and advises them to surrender. He is given another injection and taken back to see the Führer, who presents him once again with that wretched document. It is nearly four a.m. Hácha signs. “I have sacrificed the state in order to save the nation,” he believes. The imbecile. It’s as if Chamberlain’s stupidity was contagious …

Stoltur af sínu mikla pólitíska innsæi beitti Heydrich bæði gulrót og kylfu í hverri einustu ræðu; það er hinn dæmigerði mælskulistarskandall í öllum ræðum alræðissinna eins og hjá böðlinum Heydrich, slátraranum Heydrich, sem fer að tala sakleysislega um göfuglyndi sitt og framfaraþrá og skiptir svo yfir í hótanir eins og þjálfuðustu harðstjórar. En það var ekki þetta sem vakti fyrst athygli mína í þessari ræðu, það var orðið „ókurteisi“ sem hann notaði í upphafi hennar.

Á öllum tímum hafa yfirmenn verið ákaflega uppteknir af því að undirmenn hafi nóg fyrir stafni. Þessi

„Þjóðverji getur ekki leyft sér að drekka sig fullan á almannafæri, á veitingastöðum. Verum alveg hreinskilin í þessum efnum: að finna á sér og slaka á, enginn hefur neitt á móti því en það gerum við innan fjögurra veggja eða í offíseramessanum. Tékkinn verður að sjá að Þjóðverjinn stendur beinn, jafnt í embættisþjónustu og einkalífi, að hann er húsbóndi og herra frá toppi til táar.

Hún kemur illa fram við þjónustufólkið, hundskammar alla þegar hún er í vondu skapi og þegar hún er í góðu skapi talar hún ekki við neinn. Hún fær mannskap úr fangabúðum til þess að vinna umfangsmiklar endurbætur á sinni nýju höll og landareign og fer jafn illa með það fólk og aðra. Hún fylgist með vinnunni í reiðfötum með svipu. Andrúmsloftið sem hún skapar einkennist af ógn, sadisma og erótík.

Hlutverk Moravecs fólst í því að þróa menntakerfi sem miðaði einvörðungu að því að framleiða verkamenn. Þess vegna fengu tékknesk börn aðeins lágmarksmenntun fyrir væntanlegt starf, eingöngu í handverki og lítils háttar tæknimenntun.

Ég geri ráð fyrir að fýlusvipur hafi komið á andlit Heydrichs þegar hann las þessa skýrslu. Hann hefur aldrei haft neitt við það að athuga að ríða erlendum konum. En að arískar konur leiti í greddukasti að útlendingsdindlum, það hefur valdið honum ógeði og styrkt enn frekar kvenfyrirlitningu hans. En hann er viss um að Lína myndi aldrei gera neitt þessu líkt, jafnvel þótt hún ætlaði að hefna fyrir framhjáhald hans: Lína er sannur Þjóðverji með hreint blóð, aðalsblóð, í æðum, hún myndi fremur drepa sig en sofa hjá Gyðingi, negra, Slava, Araba eða einhverjum af þessum óæðri kynþáttum. Ekki eins og þessar meðvitundarlausu gyltur sem eiga ekki skilið að vera Þjóðverjar.

Það er þrennt sem mér dettur í hug þegar ég les þessa ræðu: 1. Í Tékklandi jafnt sem annars staðar skal það alltaf vera ráðherra menntamála sem er lélegasti verjandi málaflokksins og heiðurs hans. Í upphafi var Emanuel Moravec harðsnúinn andstæðingur nasismans en eftir samningana í München varð hann einn ákafasti samverkamaðurinn í tékknesku ríkisstjórninni sem Heydrich skipaði, hann var í sérstöku trúnaðarsambandi við Þjóðverja, enn frekar en Emil Hácha, hinn ellihrumi forseti. Í tékkneskum sögubókum er hann yfirleitt alltaf kallaður „Hinn tékkneski Quisling“, í höfuðið á Norðmanninum fræga, Vidkun Quisling, en nafn hans þýðir „samverkamaður nasista“ á flestum tungumálum Evrópu. 2. Þeir sem best verja heiður menntamála eru ávallt kennarar sem hafa þá köllun að styrkja uppreisnarandann, hvað svo sem fólki kann að finnast um það, en fyrir það eiga þeir skilinn virðingarvott. 3. Íþróttir eru virkilega fasískur óþverri.

Then it’s a drive to Pittsburgh for TV where I see Hunter. He’s real beat up, but the pride is evident in his face. That twinkle in his eye you never get to see, almost like he had reconnected with a little part of himself, that part of him that just wanted to be a “rassler.” Vince loved it. Steph was really stoked about it too. Pat can’t stop talking about it. He’s asking people in catering: “Oh! My god! Did you see that match?!” This all makes me feel good. I’m proud every time somebody comes up to tell me how much they enjoyed watching it, that it felt really unique. That match doesn’t have any historical significance and will probably just be another one lost in the annals of time. I doubt you’ll find that shit on Peacock or whatever, but I hope the people that were there have fond memories of it. Maybe it was the first show they brought their kids to, or it was just a fun night out with the gang drinking giant cans of Molson Canadian and watching some wrestling. A night at the matches. Maybe some kid got a blow job in the parking lot. I’d like to think so. I’d go on to wrestle Hunter a few more times, in places like Belgium and the UK. We always had dope matches. Turns out that HHH kid can work. He’s just gotta do something about those skinny calves.

De wereld heeft lak aan uw lot.

Met schimmen moet je je bezighouden en daar gaat een hoop tijd in zitten, maar dat wist ik. Wat ik daarentegen niet wist en wat ik wel had moeten bedenken, is dat een schim maar één ding wil en dat is opnieuw tot leven komen.

Met haar frambozenrode lippen.

Een druppeltje stilering in een oceaan van realiteit.

Кумедно: укотре переконуєшся, що досить лише зацікавитись якоюсь темою, як починає здаватися, що все довколо веде тебе до неї.

У сучасній тоталітарній системі управління принцип державної безпеки немає обмежень, а отже, той, хто цей принцип забезпечує, повинен здобути собі практично безмежні повноваження

Наслідком зустрічі двох агентів стає дивовижна оборудка: німці продають фальшиве досьє, за яке росіяни платять фальшивими грошима. Кожен гадає, що ошукав іншого, усі дурять усіх.

Трохи згодом Черчилль узагальнює все ним сказано у безсмертному хіазмі: «У вас був вибір між війною і безчестям. Ви обрали безчестя, а тепер матимете війну».

Нацисти обожнюють палити книжки, але не документи. Німецька хазяйновитість? Хтозна, чи не підтиралися штурмовики паперами з дорогоцінних архівів…

Гітлер тим часом заявляє: «Коли починаєш війну — немовби відчиняєш двері в темну кімнату. Ніколи не знаєш, що там може ховатися».

Однак, тим часом як депортації тривають, Терезінське ґетто править за Propagandalager, тобто за ґетто-вітрину для іноземних спостерігачів. Його мешканці мали справляти приємне враження під час відвідин представників Міжнародного комітету Червоного Хреста.

Єдина по-справжньому невблаганний річ — це Історія. Її можна читати і перечитувати як завгодно, але її не можна переписати.

Dear Goodreads diary, Thanks for receiving me all this time with hands wide open… Thanks for being patient to listen to all my gibberish. Still, I gotta go now. I’ll be absent for some time… But I want to tell you one last story… 2 years ago, a little boy came to me and asked for my help. He was desperate and tired of his life. He asked for my friendship and I was reluctant to accept his offer. I’ve always denied his emails or text messages. I know that boys are BASTARDS, though he looked like a little bird, lost and without wings…The way he talks in missing and dreams, oh GOD I wanna forget about all… it disgusts me each time to remember that he didn’t respect that I’m a conservative girl and tried his ways on me even though I’ve always asked him to stop it…. I mean, I’m 5 years older than him…. His father got sick. They reaaaaaaaally needed help. Though I’ve always known he was a “bastard” like everybody else, I couldn’t possibly leave his mom’s calls unanswered when she always asked for my help. I’ve been through all they’ve been through. I couldn’t give up on them while I knew how much it means to stand for someone who’s been tested for his father. I’m an orphan. How could I possibly walk away? + Our dear Prophet (PBUH) would never treat a misdeed with a misdeed…I’m a girl who loves GOD…I wouldn’t be as mean as him… Still, each time he was acting like bastards act. That meanness I can read in his text messages. That DISRESPECT…. I knew he used every possible memory for his ulterior motives. I kept silent for two years…I knew he was making a show… I mean even if he wasn’t making it because he saw something in me (that everybody saw, not only him), he would be making a show for his friends … Still, I’m not the one who would leave a friend in the middle of the dark…at one point in time, I called him brother…. hhh…. Thought maybe if he knows that I’m his older sister, he’ll think that the way he talked or the things he asked are things you only ask from a girlfriend and not me… he persisted…. I tested him once and he like a fool fell into the trap… I knew I should walk away even if I’d hear that his father would die… I spent whole night throwing in my disbelief…. How could people be so tricky…I’m 5 years older…. Eventually, he made his show… Thank GOD, a colleague… a mouthy colleague… started talking about everyone at school including me and him…that was heaven’s door wide open for me. Though 14 years ago, my friends started talking about me and another boy, I wouldn’t leave him for the world because I knew he was a decent boy… This time, I dived in… One month later, he came into my class not caring what my colleagues would talk…That made me sure that he wants to carry his show over… You know diary, what kills a person the most is not death. Hurt can kill…deception can kill…not apologizing can kill… Bad memories can kill…and I didn’t want to leave him with bad memories…I sent my last text message, told him to fulfill all his dreams and said goodbye…. Still I’ve never felt relieved… I texted him again, faced him with the facts, he thought he fooled me again….I said sorry and goodbye… forever…I waited for some time and then I quit my job so they don’t understand a thing about my motives… I spent two amazing months home; that I would always remember because they’ve changed me a lot…They brought me back to life again…But when I came back, all the bad memories came back again… Dear diary, I know you’ve got tired of my complaints, but I have nobody else to talk to the way I talk to you… I need to forget all the bad memories he left me with… I know I CAN, but I need some time away from you…Even though he’s like a “tafcha” in my life now… still, I have to forgive him… I’m not someone who would spend her time hating people…People like me talk in books and ideas in their social networks… Wait for me diary…I’ll be back…

That's odd," said Henry. "The first thing I thought of when I tasted that coffee was you." hhh

There was a black Mercedes with a blown tire, there was a chauffeur and a butcher, there were dignitaries gathered around a coffin, there were policemen bent over corpses, there were terrible reprisals, there was greatness and madness, weakness and betrayal, courage and fear, hope and grief, there were all the human passions brought together in a few square yards, there was war and there was death, [...] there was all the history of the world contained in a few stones.

Then – NeEeIiiIghH!, as the horse bucked and Lucifer went flying through the air. aaAAaaAgGgHhhH!

I’m fighting a losing battle. I can’t tell this story the way it should be told.

I stumble on this phrase of George Sand’s: “Poor workers or sick people, you must always struggle against those who tell you: ‘Work hard to live badly.

Even in the mid-1990s geeks were fair game. One afternoon a colleague and I were standing on either side of one of the narrow aisles between the banks of trading desks on the floor when one of the chief traders walked between us, his head momentarily between ours. At that instant he winced, clutched his head with both hands as though in excruciating pain, and exclaimed, “Aarrggh-hhh! The force field! It’s too intense! Let me out of the way!

Cette scène n’est pas forcément très utile, et en plus je l’ai pratiquement inventée, je ne crois pas que je vais la garder.