Without a history a man is just a random event, a happening without context. He comes and goes in birth and death, without aim or purpose.
With no memory nothing can make sense. Everything appears in isolation, disconnected and meaningless. The apple appears without the tree, bread without the wheat. No wisdom to gain, no love to give the self becomes all and the rest Is no more.
A people without firm roots will soon fall and just as the leaf blown from the tree will wither and die, a people with no connection to their past, shall also return to dust.
You ARE your history.
By its hands you were moulded, by its will you were born. Weaved by those before and weaved by you some more, from its design, you were given form.
In your veins it runs, all life, all time unbroken. The blood which lived, now lives again, forever reborn.
You are your history, and your blood your nation.