Natural history (n.) is nothing more than the nomination of the visible.
Natural history (n.) of Linnaeus has more in common with the period's theory of money than with Darwin.
Natural history (n.) did not appear because nature grew denser; it appeared because History became Natural.
Natural history (n.) lives in the silent gap opened between things and words — the possibility of seeing what one will be able to say.
Natural history (n.) in the eighteenth century was closed to the blind man, who could perfectly well be a geometrician but not a naturalist.
Natural history (n.) would be useless if experience showed nature's continuity step by step — everyday language would already have written it, and grammar would be the taxonomy of beings.
Natural history (n.) became a science by flattening the plant into space: classify only what the eye can see, no microscope, the old medical virtues of the plant simply dropped.
Natural history (n.) in its new order pushes all the language time had deposited on things — traditions, beliefs, poetic figures — back to the last heading of an animal's chapter: Litteraria.
Natural history (n.) in the Classical age was less a set of new concepts than a set of rules for arranging statements — a way of writing down what one saw so as to recreate a perception.
Natural history (n.) did not anticipate biology; by its very solidity and autonomy as a science of order, it excluded the constitution of a unitary science of life.
Natural history (n.) became a science by spatializing its object: Linnaeus classified plants only by what was visible, refused even the microscope, and let medical uses fall away.
Natural history (n.) since Ray pushed the old lore of plant virtues, animal powers and secret sympathies to the margins, and kept only what is visible: form, arrangement, number, size.
Natural history (n.) is a well-made language that must not lend credit to any etymology: it unites in one operation what everyday speech keeps apart — precise designation and controlled derivation.
Natural history (n.) had Linnaeus's dream of a botanical calligram: a description whose paragraphs, type sizes and layout reproduce the plant itself, so that the book becomes a herbarium of living structures.