Literature Is The Question Minus The Answer.

Literature Is Like Phosphorus: It Shines With Its Maximum Brilliance And The Moment When It Attempts To Die.

I Have Not A Desire But A Need For Solitude.

In 1850, August Salzmann Photographed, Near Jerusalem, The Road To Beith-lehem (as It Was Spelled At The Time): Nothing But Stony Ground, Olive Trees; But Three Tenses Dizzy My Consciousness: My Present, The Time Of Jesus, And That Of The Photographer, All This Under The Instance Of 'reality' - And No Longer Through The Elaborations Of The Text, Whether Fictional Or Poetic, Which Itself Is Never Credible Down To The Root.

Each Of Us Has His Own Rhythm Of Suffering.

Great Portrait Photographers Are Great Mythologists.