As a young person, and I know it’s hard to believe that I was shy, but you could take your camera, and it would take you to places: it was like having a friend, like having someone to go out with and look at the world. I would do things with a camera I wouldn’t do normally if I was just by myself.

If I didn't have my camera to remind me constantly, I am here to do this, I would eventually have slipped away, I think. I would have forgotten my reason to exist.

When I say I want to photograph someone, what it really means is that I'd like to know them. Anyone I know I photograph.

At my Rolling Stones' tour, the camera was a protection. I used it in a Zen way.

When I'm asked about my work, I try to explain that there is no mystery involved. It is work. But things happen all the time that are unexpected, uncontrolled, unexplainable, even magical. The work prepares you for that moment. Suddenly the clouds roll in and the soft light you longed for appears.

The camera makes you forget you're there. It's not like you are hiding but you forget, you are just looking so much.

When you go to take someone's picture, the first thing they say is, what you want me to do? Everyone is very awkward.