Photography intervenes in a very strange way. It makes the streets, gates, squares of the city into illustrations of a trashy novel, draws off the banal obviousness of this ancient architecture to inject it with the most pristine intensity.

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Your imagination, my dear fellow, is worth more than you imagine.

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Can the knowledge deriving from reason even begin to compare with knowledge perceptible by sense?

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For each man there awaits a particular image capable of annihilating the entire universe.

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I have no friends, there are only people I love.

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Light is meaningful only in relation to darkness, and truth presupposes error. It is these mingled opposites which people our life, which make it pungent, intoxicating. We only exist in terms of this conflict, in the zone where black and white clash.

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Language was not given to man: he seized it.

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Love is made by two people, in different kinds of solitude. It can be in a crowd, but in an oblivious crowd.

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It sometimes happens that pleasure blows anywhere it damn well chooses.

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Reality is the apparent absence of contradiction. The marvelous is the eruption of contradiction within the real.

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