When People Talk To Me About Picture

A Memory From My Youth Comes Back To Me. You Go Into The Woods On A Bike, With A Girl. There Is The Smell Of Heather, You Can Hear The Wind In The Fir Trees, You Don't Dare Tell Her About Your Love, But You Feel Happy, As If You Were Floating Above The Ground. Then You Look At The Clouds Beyond The Trees And They Are Fleeting. And You Know That Within An Hour You'll Have To Go Home, That Tomorrow Will Be A Working Day. You Wish You Could Stop That Moment Forever, But You Can't, It Is Bound To End. So You Take A Photo, As If To Challenge Time.

If You Take Photos, Don't Speak, Don't Write, Don't Analyze Yourself, And Don't Answer Any Questions.

Chance Is The One Thing You Can't Buy. You Have To Pay For It And You Have To Pay For It With Your Life, Spending A Lot Of Time, You Pay For It With Time, Not The Wasting Of Time But The Spending Of Time.

Some Days The Mere Fact Of Seeing Feels Like Perfect Happiness... You Feel So Rich You Long To Share Your Jubilation With Others. The Memory Of Such Moments Is My Most Precious Possession. Maybe Because There've Been So Few Of Them. A Hundredth Of A Second Here, A Hundredth Of A Second There-- Even If You Put Them End To End They Still Only Add Up To One, Two, Perhaps Three Seconds Snatched From Eternity.

You Know, They Always Say That The Photographer Is A Hunter Of Images. That Is A Flattering Image, The Idea Of A Hunter, It's Virile, Acquired Power. Actually Though, It Isn't That. We Are Really Fishermen With Hooks And Lines.