How does meaning get into the image? Where does it end? And if it ends, what is there beyond?
Roland BarthesLanguage is a skin: I rub my language against the other. It is as if I had words instead of fingers, or fingers at the tip of my words. My language trembles with desire.
Roland BarthesOne day, quite some time ago, I happened on a photograph of Napoleonโs youngest brother, Jerome, taken in 1852. And I realized then, with an amazement I have not been able to lessen since: โI am looking at eyes that looked at the Emperor.โ Sometimes I would mention this amazement, but since no one seemed to share it, nor even to understand it (life consists of these little touches of solitude), I forgot about it.
Roland BarthesI want to be both pathetic and admirable, I want to be at the same time a child and an adult. Thereby I gamble, I take a risk: for it is always possible that the other will simply ask no question whatever about these unaccustomed glasses; that the other will see, in the fact, no sign.
Roland Barthes