You may have killed God beneath the weight of all that you have said; but don’t imagine that, with all that you are saying, you will make a man that will live longer than he.
MICHEL FOUCAULTIt is the certainty of being punished and not the horrifying spectacle of public punishment that must discourage crime.
More Michel Foucault Quotes
-
-
Where there is power, there is resistance.
MICHEL FOUCAULT -
I don’t write a book so that it will be the final word; I write a book so that other books are possible, not necessarily written by me.
MICHEL FOUCAULT -
I’m not making a problem out of a personal question; I make of a personal question an absence of a problem.
MICHEL FOUCAULT -
It is meaningless to speak in the name of – or against – Reason, Truth, or Knowledge.
MICHEL FOUCAULT -
Islam, in the year 1978, was not the opium of the people precisely because it was the spirit of a world without spirit.
MICHEL FOUCAULT -
Nature, keeping only useless secrets, had placed within reach and insight of human beings the things it was necessary for them to know.
MICHEL FOUCAULT -
It is the certainty of being punished and not the horrifying spectacle of public punishment that must discourage crime.
MICHEL FOUCAULT -
The language of psychiatry is a monologue of reason about madness.
MICHEL FOUCAULT -
From the point of view of wealth, there is no difference between need, comfort, and pleasure.
MICHEL FOUCAULT -
Do not think that one has to be sad in order to be militant, even though the thing one is fighting is abominable.
MICHEL FOUCAULT -
I don’t feel that it is necessary to know exactly what I am.
MICHEL FOUCAULT -
Do not ask who I am and do not ask me to remain the same. More than one person, doubtless like me, writes in order to have no face.
MICHEL FOUCAULT -
The court is the bureaucracy of the law. If you bureaucratize popular justice then you give it the form of a court.
MICHEL FOUCAULT -
I’m no prophet. My job is making windows where there were once walls.
MICHEL FOUCAULT -
Death as the destruction of all things no longer had meaning when life was revealed to be a fatuous sequence of empty words, the hollow jingle of a jester’s cap and bells.
MICHEL FOUCAULT