To glorify the cult of images (my great, my only, my earliest passion).

To glorify the cult of images (my great, my only, my earliest passion).

There can be no progress-real, moral prgress-except in the individual and by the individual himself.

All the visible universe is nothing but a shop of images and signs.

The idea of beauty which man creates for himself imprints itself on his whole attire, crumples or stiffens his dress, rounds off or squares his gesture, and in the long run even ends by subtly penetrating the very features of his face. Man ends by looking like his ideal self. These engravings can be translated either into beauty or ugliness; in one direction, they become caricatures, in the other, antique statues.

God is the only being who, in order to reign, doesn't even need to exist.

The photographic industry was the refuge of all the painters who couldn't make it, either because they had no talent or because they were too lazy to finish their studies. Hence this universal infatuation was not only characterized by blindness and stupidity, but also by vindictiveness.