It is not I who am strong, it is reason, it is truth.
Truth is on the march, and nothing will stop it.
Why is it that my heart is so touched whenever I meet a dog lost in our noisy streets? Why do I feel such anguished pity when I see one of these creatures coming and going, sniffing everyone, frightened, despairing of even finding its master?
In my view you cannot claim to have seen something until you have photographed it.
One forges one's style on the terrible anvil of daily deadlines.
If you ask me what I came into this life to do, I will tell you: I came to live out loud.