To photograph reality is to photograph nothing.

I think photographers are too polite. There is not enough anger in photography; it's pretty much trivialized.

I believe in the invisible. I do not believe in the definitive reality of things around us. For me, reality is the intuition and the imagination and the quiet voice inside my head that says: isn't that extraordinary? The things in our lives are the shadows of reality, just as we ourselves are shadows.

In the West, people tend to look at life as spectators, but in the East, people are the thing.

The question of truth is forever in the air, and people look for it with particular fervor in art.

I don't get straight people, but I understand what they look like.

Then all at once in late August's heat, tall leafless stalks crowned with iridescent pink and purple blossoms burst from the purgatory in the earth. This arcane act of nature, though perceived by us as ordinary, is a manifestation of Maya's phantom play, the great immensity expressed in every way. My garden is the universe. I am the universe. I am my garden. All things are the same.