Do not think that one has to be sad in order to be militant, even though the thing one is fighting is abominable.
MICHEL FOUCAULTAs the archeology of our thought easily shows, man is an invention of recent date. And one perhaps nearing its end.
More Michel Foucault Quotes
-
-
People know what they do; frequently they know why they do what they do, but what they don’t know is what they do does.
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 -
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 -
Maybe the target nowadays is not to discover what we are but to refuse what we are.
MICHEL FOUCAULT -
My point is not that everything is bad, but that everything is dangerous.
MICHEL FOUCAULT -
Visibility is a trap.
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 -
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 -
Madness is the false punishment of a false solution, but by its own virtue, it brings to light the real problem, which can then be truly resolved.
MICHEL FOUCAULT -
Death left its old tragic heaven and became the lyrical core of man: his invisible truth, his visible secret.
MICHEL FOUCAULT -
We are entering the age of infinite examination and of compulsory objectification.
MICHEL FOUCAULT -
Everything is dangerous, nothing is innocent.
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 -
Life itself was only futility, vain words, a squabble of cap and bells.
MICHEL FOUCAULT -
The soul is the effect and instrument of a political anatomy; the soul is the prison of the body.
MICHEL FOUCAULT