Paris, I believe, is a man in his twenties in love with an older woman.

History always constitutes the relation between a present and its past. Consequently fear of the present leads to mystification of the past

The zoo cannot but disappoint.

Emigration, forced or chosen, across national frontiers or from village to metropolis, is the quintessential experience of our time.

Your lips, beloved, are like a honeycomb: honey and milk are under the tongue. And the smell of your clothes is like the smell of my home.

If everything that existed were continually being photographed, every photograph would become meaningless.

The true content of a photograph is invisible, for it derives from a play, not with form, but with time.