If You Scratch A Great Photograph, You

Journalists Justify Their Treachery In Various Ways According To Their Temperaments. The More Pompous Talk About Freedom Of Speech And ‘the Public’s Right To Know’; The Least Talented Talk About Art; The Seemliest Murmur About Earning A Living.

The ‘i’ Character In Journalism Is Almost Pure Invention. Unlike The ‘i’ Of Autobiography, Who Is Meant To Be Seen As A Representation Of The Writer, The ‘i’ Of Journalism Is Connected To The Writer Only In A Tenuous Way—the Way, Say, That Superman Is Connected To Clark Kent. The Journalistic ‘i’ Is An Overreliable Narrator, A Functionary To Whom Crucial Tasks Of Narration And Argument And Tone Have Been Entrusted, An Ad Hoc Creation, Like The Chorus Of Greek Tragedy. He Is An Emblematic Figure, An Embodiment Of The Idea Of The Dispassionate Observer Of Life.

[y]ou Never Come Right Out And Admit You Have Stretched The Rules For Your Own Benefit. You Do It And Shut Up About It, And Hope You Don't Get Caught, Because If You Are Caught No One Or No One Who Has Any Sense Will Come Forward And Say He Has Done The Same Thing Himself.

If You Scratch A Great Photograph, You Find Two Things; A Painting And A Photograph.

Analysts Keep Having To Pick Away At The Scab That The Patient Tries To Form Between Himself And The Analyst To Cover Over His Wounds. The Analyst Keeps The Surface Raw, So That The Wound Will Heal Properly.