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I passed beyond the unreality of the thing represented, I entered crazily into the spectacle, into the image, taking into my arms what is dead, what is going to die.
Roland Barthes
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Roland Barthes
Age: 64 †
Born: 1915
Born: November 12
Died: 1980
Died: March 25
Diarist
Essayist
Linguist
Literary Critic
Literary Scholar
Literary Theorist
Mythographer
Non-Fiction Writer
Philosopher
Screenwriter
Roland Gérard Barthes
Beyond
Unreality
Dead
Spectacle
Dies
Represented
Thing
Entered
Going
Passed
Image
Arms
Taking
Crazily
More quotes by Roland Barthes
To eat steak rare . . . represents both a nature and a morality.
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Painting can feign reality without having seen it.
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A photograph is always invisible, it is not it that we see.
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The birth of the reader must be at the cost of the death of the Author.
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To make someone wait: the constant prerogative of all power.
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For me the noise of Time is not sad: I love bells, clocks, watches — and I recall that at first photographic implements were related to techniques of cabinetmaking and the machinery of precision: cameras, in short, were clocks for seeing, and perhaps in me someone very old still hears in the photographic mechanism the living sound of the wood.
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Is not the most erotic part of the body wherever the clothing affords a glimpse?
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Language is neither reactionary nor progressive it is quite simply fascist for fascism does not prevent speech, it compels speech.
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I love you is unsubtle. It removes explanations, facilities, degrees, scruples.
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To eat, to speak, to sing (need we add: to kiss?) are operations which have the same site of the body for origin.
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Flaubert had infinite correction to perform.
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It must always be considered as though spoken by a character in a novel
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There is only one way left to escape the alienation of present day society: to retreat ahead of it.
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Henceforth I would have to cosent to combine two voices: the voice of banality (to say what everyone sees and knows) and the voice of singularity (to replenish such banality with all the élan of an emotion which belonged only to myself).
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In 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.
Roland Barthes
The haiku reproduces the designating gesture of the child pointing at whatever it is (the haiku shows no partiality for the subject), merely saying: that!
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To know that one does not write for the other, to know that these things I am going to write will never cause me to be loved by the one I love (the other), to know that writing compensates for nothing, sublimates nothing, that it is precisely there where you are not--this is the beginning of writing.
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Even hidden in the most squalid Parisian halls, wrestling partakes of the nature of the great solar spectacles, Greek drama and bullfights: in both, a light without shadow generates an emotion without reserve.
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What the Photograph reproduces to infinity has occurred only once: the Photograph mechanically repeats what could never be repeated existentially.
Roland Barthes
The author enters into his own death, writing begins.
Roland Barthes