A Face (n.) is lost the moment the other becomes material.
A Face (n.) is the very mortality of the other human being.
The Face (n.) is best met by not even noticing the color of the other's eyes.
A Face (n.) is a depth rather than a horizon — a gap in the horizon.
A Face (n.) is not a presence announcing a "non-said" that will be said from behind it.
A Face (n.) is a look that cannot be abandoned or freed, but that aims at you.
The Face (n.) remains a fraternal and human face — which puts the animal outside the ethical circuit.
A Face (n.) emerges when expression dresses the biological being and at once strips it beyond all nudity.
A Face (n.) is the evidence that makes evidence possible — playing the role divine veracity played in Descartes.
A Face (n.) leaves me as though responsible for his mortality, and guilty for surviving.
A Face (n.) affects us not in the indicative but in the imperative, and so stands outside all categories.
A Face (n.) has "thou shalt not murder" inscribed on it, constituting its very otherness.
A Face (n.) is a gaze that supplicates and demands — deprived of everything because entitled to everything.
A Face (n.) is not an answer to a question but the correlate of what precedes every question — which is Desire.
A Face (n.) is nudity more naked than nudity, poverty, ageing and dying, skin with wrinkles that are a trace of itself.
The Face (n.) does not signify anything; the other is not signaled by his face, he is this face.
A Face (n.) of the other man, your neighbor, is the original site of Revelation — where a god, or God, beholds you.
A Face (n.) breaks the system: transcendence is what turns its face towards us.
A Face (n.) breaks through its own sculpted essence, like someone opening the very window on which their own likeness was taking shape.
A Face (n.) seen is not sight in the light of being, for here sight is immediately a taking charge.