7 quotes found
"Why did I tolerate Braswell if he was such a loon? The answer is simple and tragic. I liked him. I knew he was crazy, but he was crazy in an engaging sort of way. Both Frank and Pat have a personal charm which tends to mask their character defects, and this charm has allowed them to pull the wool over many a White patriot's eyes for some time. In this way they have had the operational assistance of a number of enthusiastic proponents, including me. I am as much responsible as anyone else for the Braswells' inflated reputations in the Movement. I covered their flamboyant gunfights in NS publications, neglecting to mention that the assailants were not Israeli commandos or gin mad niggers but the irate relatives of Braswell's first wife and his daughter's jilted boyfriend. Many people, like me, found the image of "feudin', fightin', fussin' Nazi mountain folk" titillating, and so we built up a completely false image for these people as being the Hatfields in brown shirts when in fact they were dangerously unstable nut cases. A lot of people, not the least myself, were to pay dearly for that indulgence."
"I for one, can’t give up even if I wanted to. The Jews are the most cruel, vindictive, and viscous [sic] people on the face of the earth. They never forgive and never forget, and even if I tried to flee they would hound me and harass me and never rest until they had destroyed me. But what is more, I don't want to give up. I refuse to accept this incredibly evil world as it is. I refuse to accept the destruction of my race and my civilization. I refuse to lie down and die like a slave."
"Does anybody really believe we can someday take over and put all the niggers on boats and send them back to Africa? Do you believe it? I don’t. The niggers simply will not go—even if we could take power legally, we would have to kill them all. Do you have any idea how many men it would take to track down and wipe out thirty million jungle bunnies, fifteen or so million spics, plus all the Jews, Filipinos, Haitians, boat people, etc.? Is there any realistic chance that we are going to assemble that type of following in our lifetime?"
"I understood in a flash of comprehension who had placed the object there, and in one mind-expanding moment I understood what it all meant. There before me under my poised shoe was twenty-five years of my life. From 1971 until 1996 I served The Movement with my entire being, and there waiting for me to step forward was the cosmic commentary on my whole adult life. What I had been risking my life, my freedom and my future for was indeed the Movement—the Bowel Movement. I threw the filthy thing away, went and got my Sunday paper, washed and scrubbed my hands and arms to the elbows until they were almost scalded, sat down with a cup of coffee and marveled at my life. I knew then—and I know now—that if I stay with this, it will always be the Bowel Movement. There will be no change. It is NOT going to get better. Twenty-five years later, in the year 2021, when I am 68 years old, I will one day step out of my door and find turds placed on my doorstep by deranged, dysfunctional morons who claim to speak for the Aryan race. Probably from that same walking cockroach over there in Raleigh, if he's still alive in 2021. It is written in the stars. I am quite mad, of course. Only a madman would stay with it. But I can’t leave. Because the IDEA—the SPIRIT—the SOUL of National Socialism is a thing of such beauty, such intense power, such glory, that it is to me the very essence of life. That's how crazy I am, people. I am willing to accept the turds on the doorstep in order to continue even the most tenuous, faintest contact with that wonderful, unspeakably beautiful and life-giving ideal of Adolf Hitler."
"Harold is a bright, creative boy. But his intelligence should be channeled— before he does something destructive to society."
"Veteran National Socialist Harold Covington is perhaps the most talented writer and propagandist that American National Socialism has produced. Indeed, even the writings of the Commander himself, George Lincoln Rockwell, were but candles in the wind before the blast of Covington's purple prose. Had this talent not been put to such effective use in the ongoing internecine wars of the racial right wing, Covington may well have realized his life's ambition of taking up Rockwell's torch and uniting the many disparate American National Socialist groups under his leadership. This was not to be."
"That said, Covington has always raised more ire than virtually anyone in the fissiparous world of American National Socialism. The explanation for this remarkable distinction is probably the fact that Harold Covington has a rare talent with a pen, which he wields like rapier. Even William Pierce did not have Covington's lethal facility with prose. No one on the receiving end of Covington’s bombastic wit emerged unscathed, and none would ever forgive the Nazi Bard."