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The language of psychiatry is a monologue of reason about madness.

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

People Religion Spirit World
I’m no prophet. My job is making windows where there were once walls.
MICHEL FOUCAULT

Myself Philosophy Religious
With humanity, life has ended up with a living creature that never quite finds itself in the right place, a living creature destined to wander and endlessly make mistakes.
MICHEL FOUCAULT

End Humanity Life Live Mistake Place Quite Right
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

Book Myself Necessary Possible Word Writing
Everything is dangerous, nothing is innocent.
MICHEL FOUCAULT

Dangerous Innocent
It’s amazing how people like judging.
MICHEL FOUCAULT

One Liner People
There is no glory in punishing.
MICHEL FOUCAULT

Glory One Liner Punishment
It would be wrong to say that the soul is an illusion or an ideological effect. On the contrary, it exists, it has a reality.
MICHEL FOUCAULT

Existence Illusion Philosophy Reality Soul Spiritual Wrong
The language of psychiatry is a monologue of reason about madness.
MICHEL FOUCAULT

Language Mad Reason
Justice must always question itself, just as society can exist only by means of the work it does on itself and on its institutions.
MICHEL FOUCAULT

Existence Justice Philosophy
Visibility is a trap.
MICHEL FOUCAULT

One Liner Trap View
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

Deep Fight Philosophy Sad Thinking
This knowledge, so inaccessible, so formidable, the Fool, in his innocent idiocy, already possesses.
MICHEL FOUCAULT

Knowledge Philosophy
Death left its old tragic heaven and became the lyrical core of man: his invisible truth, his visible secret.
MICHEL FOUCAULT

Death Heaven Man Secret Tragedy Truth
Life itself was only futility, vain words, a squabble of cap and bells.
MICHEL FOUCAULT

Life Philosophy Word
My point is not that everything is bad, but that everything is dangerous.
MICHEL FOUCAULT

Bad Dangerous Myself

The language of psychiatry is a monologue of reason about madness.

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The language of psychiatry is a monologue of reason about madness.

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