Where You Are Tender, You Speak Your

The Winter Photograph Was My Ariadne, Not Because It Would Help Me Discover A Secret Thing (monster Or Treasure), But Because It Would Tell Me What Constituted That Thread Which Drew Me Toward Photography. I Had Understood That Henceforth I Must Interrogate The Evidence Of Photography, Not From The Viewpoint Of Pleasure, But In Relation To What We Romantically Call Love And Death.

I Try To Busy Myself Elsewhere, To Arrive Late; But I Always Lose At This Game. Whatever I Do, I Find Myself There, With Nothing To Do, Punctual, Even Ahead Of Time.

The Politician Being Interviewed Clearly Takes A Great Deal Of Trouble To Imagine An Ending To His Sentence: And If He Stopped Short? His Entire Policy Would Be Jeopardized!

Thus Every Writer's Motto Reads: Mad I Cannot Be, Sane I Do Not Deign To Be, Neurotic I Am.

[photography] Allows Me To Accede To An Infra-knowledge; It Supplies Me With A Collection Of Partial Objects And Can Flatter A Certain Fetishism Of Mine: For This 'me' Which Like Knowledge, Which Nourishes A Kind Of Amorous Preference For It. In The Same Way, I Like Certain Biographical Features Which, In A Writer's Life, Delight Me As Much As Certain Photographs; I Have Called These Features 'biographemes'; Photography Has The Same Relation To History That The Biographeme Has To Biography.