The photograph, after all, is just a photograph. Words will determine its meaning and status.

Writes have an island, a center of refuge, within themselves. It is the mind's anchorage, the soul's Great Good Place.

The man who walks alone is soon trailed by the F.B.I.

Cats don't belong to people. They belong to places.

As the style of Faulkner grew out of his rage--out of the impotence of his rage--the style of Hemingway grew out of the depth andnuance of his disenchantment.

The camera eye is the one in the middle of our forehead, combining how we see with what there is to be seen.

We make to ourselves pictures of facts. The picture is a model of reality