'I can't help thinking of the critic who would not try to judge, but bring into existence a work, a book, a phrase, an idea. He would light the fires, watch the grass grow, listen to the wind, snatch the passing dregs in order to scatter them. He would multiply, not the number of judgements, but the sign of existence; he would call out to them, he would draw them from their sleep. would he sometimes invent them? So much the better. The sentencious critic puts me to sleep, I would prefer a critic of imaginative scintillations. he would not be sovereign, nor dressed in red. He would bear the lightning flashes of possible storms'.
From one of the easiest port of entry to M.F.'s thought, Foucault Live 1961-1984-Collected Interviews ,Sylvere Lotringer Ed, Semiotexte, 1989.