All those young photographers who are at work in the world, determined upon the capture of actuality, do not know that they are agents of Death.

To hide a passion totally (or even to hide, more simply, its excess) is inconceivable: not because the human subject is too weak, but because passion is in essence made to be seen: the hiding must be seen: I want you to know that I am hiding something from you, that is the active paradox I must resolve: at one and the same time it must be known and not known: I want you to know that I don't want to show my feelings: that is the message I address to the other.

I have tried to be as eclectic as I possibly can with my professional life, and so far it's been pretty fun.

Who speaks is not who writes, and who writes is not who is.

We can never know, for the good reason that writing is the destruction of every voice, every origin. Writing is that neuter, that composite, that obliquity into which our subject flees, the black-and-white where all identity is lost, beginning with the very identity of the body that writes.

To eat steak rare . . . represents both a nature and a morality.

All those young photographers who are at work in the world, determined upon the capture of actuality, do not know that they are agents of Death.