Since the day of my birth, my death began its walk. It is walking toward me, without hurrying.

People seek escape in myth by any means at their disposal, including drugs, alcohol, meditation, and lies.

If an addict who has been completely cured starts smoking again he no longer experiences the discomfort of his first addiction. There exists, therefore, outside alkaloids and habit, a sense for opium, an intangible habit which lives on, despite the recasting of the organism. The dead drug leaves a ghost behind. At certain hours it haunts the house.

Nothing is more intriguing than a still photograph in the middle of a motion picture... Just as an accident is a cry changed into silence and not a silence after a cry, photography is speed rendered motionless.

Not only should you not accept a prize. You should not try to deserve one either.

Since the day of my birth, my death began its walk. It is walking toward me, without hurrying.

The Louvre is a morgue; you go there to identify your friends.