Our squalid society rushed, Narcissus to a man, to gaze on its trivial image on a scrap of metal.

In certain almost supernatural states of the soul, the profundity of life reveals itself entirely in the spectacle, however ordinary it may be, before one's eyes. It becomes its symbol.

...an industry which can furnish results identical to nature must be the absolute in art.

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

Let us beware of common folk, of common sense, of sentiment, of inspiration, and of the obvious.

The man who says his evening prayer is a captain posting his sentinels. He can sleep.

Life is a hospital in which every patient is possessed by a desire to change his bed.