Chance does not speak essentially through words nor can it be seen in their convolution. It is the eruption of language, its sudden appearance. Its not a night twinkle with stars, an illuminated sleep, nor a drowsy vigil. It is the very edge of consciousness. – Michel Foucault
What strikes me is the fact that in our society, art has become something which is only related to objects, and not to individuals, or to life. – Michel Foucault
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