The 'I' character in journalism is almost pure invention.

If you scratch a great photograph, you find two things; a painting and a photograph.

The dominant and most deep-dyed trait of the journalist is his timorousness. Where the novelist fearlessly plunges into the water of self-exposure, the journalist stands trembling on the shore in his beach robe. The journalist confines himself to the clean, gentlemanly work of exposing the grieves and shames of others.

Malice remains its animating impulse.

Fidelity to the subject's thought and to his characteristic way of expressing himself is the sine qua non of journalistic quotation.

There are good photographers who might elevate themselves to the ranks of the great simply by burning most of their work.

The writer, like the murderer, needs a motive.