Quoted By:
How can you miss someone you've never met?
Miss him so much it hurts.
As if everything else in life were imperfect, as if happiness stops halfway, as if sorrow and suffering seem meaningless - as long as one's actions are not allowed to greet him.
Call him Leader, Chief, Uncle or God, he cared about us like no other, and he made the whole world tremble before our skulls.
His mere name is like a curse, like lightning and a storm.
Our enemies must cover their ears, they must shout to drown out our word, they must reach out with clubs and hooked knives against our righteous tongue - for there is power in his name. Adolf Hitler.
He's not dead.
Because no dead man has such power over people's fears and emotions.
He is ever present, wherever our Nordic blood still flows.
He bides his time, he gathers his strength for the next storm.
Everything we do is a prophecy, a wind whispering his name in the top of the pine.
The young guys cheering in their EPA car. The teenagers who fall in love for the first time. The old men who heal their wounds. Two broken people who forget all the pain, and become whole together again.
Wherever two or three Swedes meet, and live as Swedes for each other's sake - there is Adolf Hitler.
He is our sun. He is our promise, that everything will be fine again.
He is the heart that breaks through all loneliness, the hand that reaches out to every Swede in need.
He is the knowledge that you are needed, the security that you have a purpose, the joy that even death cannot subdue you.
Because the one who dies just ends up in his wild ride. And by his side you too shall wait, until the next time the wrath of the forest rises to the surface.
