It is as if the Photograph always carries its referent with itself, both affected by the same amorous or funereal immobility, at the very heart of the moving world: they are glued together, limb by limb, like the condemned man and the corpse in certain tortures; or even like those pairs of fish (sharks, I think, according to Michelet) which navigate in convoy, as though united by an eternal coitus.

The best principals are not heroes; they are hero makers.

Cameras, in short, were clocks for seeing, and perhaps in me someone very old still hears in the photographic mechanism the living sound of the wood.

A photograph is always invisible, it is not it that we see.

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.

I love you is unsubtle. It removes explanations, facilities, degrees, scruples.

If I had to create a god, I would lend him a “slow understanding”: a kind of drip-by-drip understanding of problems. People who understand quickly frighten me.