A great man is one who leaves others at a loss after he is gone.

The mere notion of photography, when we introduce it into our meditation on the genesis of historical knowledge and its true value, suggests the simple question: Could such and such a fact, as it is narrated here, have been photographed?

The folly of mistaking a paradox for a discovery, a metaphor for a proof, a torrent of verbiage for a spring of capital truths, and oneself for an oracle, is inborn in us.

Photography invites one to give up any attempt to delineate such things as can delineate themselves.

Thanks to photography, the eye grew accustomed to anticipate what it should see and to see it; and it learned not to see nonexistent things which, hitherto, it had seen so clearly.

Books have the same enemies as people: fire, humidity, animals, weather, and their own content.

Beware of what you do best; its bound to be a trap.