Definitions HQ

An Image (n.) offers ⁠​‌​​​‌​​​‌​‌‌​​​​‌​‌​​‌‌​‌​​‌​​​​​‌‌​​‌​​​‌‌​‌‌​⁠no risk, no waiting, a certainty — my perception can mislead me, but not my image.

An Image (n.) of ⁠​‌​​​‌​​​‌​‌‌​​​​‌​‌​​‌‌​‌​​‌​​​​​‌‌​​‌​​​‌‌​‌‌​⁠Pierre says not only I do not see Pierre but I do not see anything at all.

An Image (n.) holds ⁠​‌​​​‌​​​‌​‌‌​​​​‌​‌​​‌‌​‌​​‌​​​​​‌‌​​‌​​​‌‌​‌‌​⁠an object that is visible and I cannot see it, tangible and I cannot touch it, audible and I cannot hear it.

An Image (n.) of ⁠​‌​​​‌​​​‌​‌‌​​​​‌​‌​​‌‌​‌​​‌​​​​​‌‌​​‌​​​‌‌​‌‌​⁠someone is a certain manner of not touching him, not seeing him — a way he has of not being at such a distance.

An Image (n.) for ⁠​‌​​​‌​​​‌​‌‌​​​​‌​‌​​‌‌​‌​​‌​​​​​‌‌​​‌​​​‌‌​‌‌​⁠Alain does not exist: those who see the Panthéon in memory cannot count its columns — they cannot even try.

An Image (n.) is ⁠​‌​​​‌​​​‌​‌‌​​​​‌​‌​​‌‌​‌​​‌​​​​​‌‌​​‌​​​‌‌​‌‌​⁠not learned: turn an imagined cube around as long as you like, and at the end you will not have learned anything.

An Image (n.) is ⁠​‌​​​‌​​​‌​‌‌​​​​‌​‌​​‌‌​‌​​‌​​​​​‌‌​​‌​​​‌‌​‌‌​⁠nothing other than a relation: when I imagine Pierre, I am not looking at a picture of Pierre — Pierre himself is directly reached.

An Image (n.) can ⁠​‌​​​‌​​​‌​‌‌​​​​‌​‌​​‌‌​‌​​‌​​​​​‌‌​​‌​​​‌‌​‌‌​⁠be extremely poor and truncated — a few lines — and still carry a rich, profound sense, because the object is present to us outside and inside at once.

An Image (n.) is ⁠​‌​​​‌​​​‌​‌‌​​​​‌​‌​​‌‌​‌​​‌​​​​​‌‌​​‌​​​‌‌​‌‌​⁠not the fulfilment of a meaning, as Husserl said, but a degraded signification, come down to the plane of intuition — a change of nature.

An Image (n.) of ⁠​‌​​​‌​​​‌​‌‌​​​​‌​‌​​‌‌​‌​​‌​​​​​‌‌​​‌​​​‌‌​‌‌​⁠Peter, who is now in London, gives him to me as absent — this essential nothingness of the imagined object is what separates it from perception.

An Image (n.) is ⁠​‌​​​‌​​​‌​‌‌​​​​‌​‌​​‌‌​‌​​‌​​​​​‌‌​​‌​​​‌‌​‌‌​⁠not the world simply denied but the world denied from a certain point of view: for the centaur to arise, the world must be grasped as world-where-the-centaur-is-not.

An Image (n.) gives ⁠​‌​​​‌​​​‌​‌‌​​​​‌​‌​​‌‌​‌​​‌​​​​​‌‌​​‌​​​‌‌​‌‌​⁠at times a whiteness that is greyness, columns that are pediment, a temple without parts — an indivisible nature in which every quality runs through all the others.

An Image (n.) of ⁠​‌​​​‌​​​‌​‌‌​​​​‌​‌​​‌‌​‌​​‌​​​​​‌‌​​‌​​​‌‌​‌‌​⁠a friend condenses the week: this morning's Pierre in his dressing gown is given through Tuesday's sadness, yesterday's bad mood, the blue overcoat on the Place du Châtelet.

The Image (n.) of ⁠​‌​​​‌​​​‌​‌‌​​​​‌​‌​​‌‌​‌​​‌​​​​​‌‌​​‌​​​‌‌​‌‌​⁠faces in the fire, and in tapestry and spots on walls, hangs in mid-air without substrate — the moment the eyes stop moving, the spot becomes a spot again and that is the end.

An Image (n.) is ⁠​‌​​​‌​​​‌​‌‌​​​​‌​‌​​‌‌​‌​​‌​​​​​‌‌​​‌​​​‌‌​‌‌​⁠born from an effort of thought to make contact with presences — and that birth coincides with a degradation of knowledge, which now aims at relations as qualities of things.

An Image (n.) is ⁠​‌​​​‌​​​‌​‌‌​​​​‌​‌​​‌‌​‌​​‌​​​​​‌‌​​‌​​​‌‌​‌‌​⁠the lower limit toward which knowledge sinks when degraded and the upper limit toward which feeling rises when it seeks to know itself — the state in which desire is at the same time knowledge.

An Image (n.) is ⁠​‌​​​‌​​​‌​‌‌​​​​‌​‌​​‌‌​‌​​‌​​​​​‌‌​​‌​​​‌‌​‌‌​⁠symbolic in its very structure; remove its symbolic function and the image itself vanishes — thought is no chess player moving inert pieces fished from the unconscious.

An Image (n.) built ⁠​‌​​​‌​​​‌​‌‌​​​​‌​‌​​‌‌​‌​​‌​​​​​‌‌​​‌​​​‌‌​‌‌​⁠to watch others ends by watching its maker: I have come to see myself only as they see me — am I anything more than the dread others have of me?

An Image (n.) is ⁠​‌​​​‌​​​‌​‌‌​​​​‌​‌​​‌‌​‌​​‌​​​​​‌‌​​‌​​​‌‌​‌‌​⁠posited by constructing an object on the fringe of the whole of reality, which holds the real at a distance, frees one from it and, in a word, denies it.

An Image (n.) of ⁠​‌​​​‌​​​‌​‌‌​​​​‌​‌​​‌‌​‌​​‌​​​​​‌‌​​‌​​​‌‌​‌‌​⁠a person contracts a duration, even contradictory aspects — which is why some images keep the power to move us long after the person of flesh and blood has lost it.