Maybe the target nowadays is not to discover what we are but to refuse what we are. — Michel Foucault Copy Share Image
To seek in the great accumulation of the already-said the text that resembles "in advance" a later text, to ransack history in order to rediscover the play of anticipations or echoes, to go right back to the first seeds or… — Michel Foucault Copy Share Image
One should try to locate power at the extreme of its exercise, where it is always less legal in character. — Michel Foucault Copy Share Image
The book is not simply the object that one holds in one's hands, and it cannot remain within the little parallelpiped that contains it:… — Michel Foucault Copy Share Image
“But a punishment like forced labour or even imprisonment – mere loss of liberty – has never functioned without a certain additional element of… — Michel Foucault Copy Share Image
Death left its old tragic heaven and became the lyrical core of man: his invisible truth, his visible secret. — Michel Foucault Copy Share Image
I'm no prophet. My job is making windows where there were once walls. — Michel Foucault Copy Share Image
Let us ask... how things work at the level of on-going subjugation, at the level of those continuous and uninterrupted processes which subject our… — Michel Foucault Copy Share Image
What makes power hold good, what makes it accepted, is simply the fact that it doesn't only weigh on us as a force that… — Michel Foucault Copy Share Image
“It was a matter of showing by what conjunctions a whole set of practices-- from the moment they became coordinated with a regime of… — Michel Foucault Copy Share Image
“The preferred medications were those that forestalled corruption. We know 'as a result of more than three thousand years of experience that Myrrh and… — Michel Foucault Copy Share Image
“The man described for us, whom we are invited to free, is already in himself the effect of a subjection much more profound than… — Michel Foucault Copy Share Image
“Confined on the ship, from which there is no escape, the madman is delivered to the river with its thousand arms, the sea with… — Michel Foucault Copy Share Image
