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 FOUCAULTDo 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.
More Michel Foucault Quotes
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We are entering the age of infinite examination and of compulsory objectification.
MICHEL FOUCAULT -
In civilizations without ships, dreams dry up, espionage takes the place of adventure and the police take the place of corsairs.
MICHEL FOUCAULT -
It is the certainty of being punished and not the horrifying spectacle of public punishment that must discourage crime.
MICHEL FOUCAULT -
My point is not that everything is bad, but that everything is dangerous.
MICHEL FOUCAULT -
This knowledge, so inaccessible, so formidable, the Fool, in his innocent idiocy, already possesses.
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 -
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 -
We must not think that by saying yes to sex, one says no to power.
MICHEL FOUCAULT -
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 -
It’s amazing how people like judging.
MICHEL FOUCAULT -
Maybe the target nowadays is not to discover what we are but to refuse what we are.
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 not making a problem out of a personal question; I make of a personal question an absence of a problem.
MICHEL FOUCAULT -
I don’t feel that it is necessary to know exactly what I am. The main interest in life and work is to become someone else that you were not in the beginning.
MICHEL FOUCAULT -
Life itself was only futility, vain words, a squabble of cap and bells.
MICHEL FOUCAULT