Stanley Louis Cavell (/kəˈvɛl/; born September 1, 1926) is an American philosopher. He is the Walter M. Cabot Professor of Aesthetics and the General Theory of Value, Emeritus, at Harvard University.
I don't run away from the idea of philosophy as seductive. I want the sentences to be prose but intense prose, to show that, like life, thinking is not linear.
The academic world doesn't invite you to try to walk on two feet all the time. And in philosophy especially. . . it's a very intimidating place. The intimidation can be very thin, or it can stop you.
I know how to give the meaning of a word but not how to give the intention of a word.
Under examination by the camera, a human body becomes for its inhabitant a field of betrayal more than a ground of communication, and the camera's further power is manifested as it documents the individual's self-conscious efforts to control the body each time it is conscious of the camera's attention to it.
Can human beings change? The humor, and the sadness, of remarriage comedies can be said to result from the fact that we have no good answer to that question.
The achievement of happiness requires not the satisfaction of our needs but the examination and transformation of those needs.
Philosophy. . . is indeed outrageous, inherently so. It seeks to disquiet the foundations of our lives and to offer us in recompense nothing better than itself- and this on the basis of no expert knowledge, of nothing closed to the ordinary human being, once. . . [one] lets himself or herself be informed by the process and ambition of philosophy.
Philosophy is the education of grown-ups.
One impulse of photography, as immediate as its impulse to extend the visible, is to theatricalize its subjects. The photographer's command, Watch the birdie! is essentially a stage direction.
The development of fast film allowed the subjects of our photographs to be caught unawares, beyond our or their control. But they are nevertheless caught; the camera holds the last lanyard of control we would forgo.
So far as photography satisfied a wish, it satisfied a wish not confined to painters, but a human wish, intensifying since the Reformation, to escape subjectivity and metaphysical isolation - a wish for power to reach this world, having for so long tried, at last hopelessly, to manifest fidelity to another. . . Photography overcame subjectivity in a way undreamed of by painting, one which does not so much defeat the act of painting as escape it altogether: by automatism, by removing the human agent from the act of reproduction.
I try to keep my voice in writing, and I think that's why I get so many complaints about how I write.