We don’t forget, but something vacant settles in us.
ROLAND BARTHESIn front of the photograph of my mother as a child, I tell myself: she is going to die: I shudder, like winnicott’s psychotic patient, over a catastrophe which has already occurred. Whether or not the subject is already dead, every photograph is this catastrophe.
More Roland Barthes Quotes
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All those young photographers who are at work in the world, determined upon the capture of actuality, do not know that they are agents of Death.
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Thus every writer’s motto reads: mad I cannot be, sane I do not deign to be, neurotic I am.
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If I acknowledge my dependency, I do so because for me it is a means of signifying my demand: in the realm of love, futility is not a “weakness” or an “absurdity”: it is a strong sign: the more futile, the more it signifies and the more it asserts itself as strength.)
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The lover who does not forget sometimes dies from excess, fatigue, and the strain of memory (like Werther).
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All official institutions of language are repeating machines: school, sports, advertising, popular songs, news, all continually repeat the same structure, the same meaning, often the same words: the stereotype is a political fact, the major figure of ideology.
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A paradox: the same century invented history and photography. But history is a memory fabricated according to positive formulas, a pure intellectual discourse which abolishes mythic time; and the photograph is a certain but fugitive testimony.
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He who reads a story only once is condemned to read the same story his whole life.
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A light without shadow generates an emotion without reserve.
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The text is a tissue of quotations drawn from the innumerable centres of culture.
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Who speaks is not who writes, and who writes is not who is.
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To eat steak rare represents both a nature and a morality.
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Don’t say mourning. It’s too psychoanalytic. I’m not mourning. I’m suffering.
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To try to write love is to confront the muck of language: that region of hysteria where language is both too much and too little, excessive and impoverished.
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Every object in the world can pass from a closed, silent existence to an oral state, open to appropriation by society, for there is no law, whether natural or not, which forbids talking about things
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I make the other’s absence responsible for my worldliness.
ROLAND BARTHES