Drowsing, they take the noble attitude of a great sphinx, who, in a desert land, sleeps always, dreaming dreams that have no end.

Being a useful man has always seemed to me to be something truly hideous.

My heart is lost; the beasts have eaten it.

Since photography gives us every guarantee of exactitude that we could desire (they really believe that, the mad fools !), then photography and art are the same thing.

Life has but one true charm: the charm of the game. But what if we’re indifferent to whether we win or lose?

Today I had a strange warning. I felt the wind of insanity brush my mind.

This industry [photography], by invading the territories of art, has become art's most mortal enemy.