History does nothing; it does not possess immense riches, it does not fight battles. It is men, real, living, who do all this.

History repeats itself, first as tragedy, second as farce.

The writer must earn money in order to be able to live and to write, but he must by no means live and write for the purpose of making money.

The writer may very well serve a movement of history as its mouthpiece, but he cannot of course create it.

It is not history which uses men as a means of achieving - as if it were an individual person - its own ends. History is nothing but the activity of men in pursuit of their ends.

Capital is money, capital is commodities. By virtue of it being value, it has acquired the occult ability to add value to itself. It brings forth living offspring, or, at the least, lays golden eggs.