Travel becomes a strategy for accumulating photographs.
The camera makes everyone a tourist in other people's reality, and eventually in one's own.
Silence remains, inescapably, a form of speech.
Interpretation is the revenge of the intellectual upon art.
Existence is no more than the precarious attainment of relevance in an intensely mobile flux of past, present, and future.
Volume depends precisely on the writer's having been able to sit in a room every day, year after year, alone.
I was not looking for my dreams to interpret my life, but rather for my life to interpret my dreams.
What is most beautiful in virile men is something feminine; what is most beautiful in feminine women is something masculine.
The truth is always something that is told, not something that is known. If there were no speaking or writing, there would be no truth about anything. There would only be what is.
The truth is balance. However the opposite of truth, which is unbalance, may not be a lie.
To take a photograph is to participate in another person's mortality, vulnerability, mutability. Precisely by slicing out this moment and freezing it, all photographs testify to time's relentless melt.
Sanity is a cozy lie.
It is not suffering as such that is most deeply feared but suffering that degrades.
The painter constructs, the photographer discloses.
What is the most beautiful in virile men is something feminine; what is most beautiful in feminine women is something masculine.
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