T.S. Elliot
[Poet and critic, b. 1888, St. Louis, Missouri, d. 1965, London.]

 What are the roots that clutch, what branches grow
Out of this stony rubbish? Son of man,
You cannot say, or guess, for you know only
A heap of broken images. 

Harold Edgerton
[Scientist, inventor, and photographer, b. 1903, Fremont, Nebraska, d. 1990, Cambridge, Massachusetts.]

 In many ways, unexpected results are what have most inspired my photography. 

Brian Eno
[Musician, composer, artist, b. 1948, Woodbridge, England, lives in Suffolk, England.]

 Whatever you now find weird, ugly, uncomfortable and nasty about a new medium will surely become its signature... The excitement of grainy film, of bleached-out black and white, is the excitement of witnessing events too momentous for the medium assigned to record them. 

Wendy Ewald
[Photographer and educator, b. 1951, Detroit, Michigan, lives in Rhinebeck, New York.]

 Gradually I saw that it was less interesting for me, as an artist, to frame the world wholly according to my own perceptions. I wanted instead to create situations in which I allowed others’ perceptions to surface with my own. 

Alfred Eisenstaedt
[Photographer, b. 1898, Dirschau, West Prussia (now Tczew, Poland), d. 1995, New York.]

 I will be remembered when I’m in heaven. People won’t remember my name, but they will know the photographer who did that picture of that nurse being kissed by the sailor at the end of World War II. Everybody remembers that. 

Harold Evans
[Writer and editor, b. 1928, Manchester, England, lives in New York.]

 People were murdered for the camera; and some photographers and a television camera crew departed without taking a picture in the hope that in the absence of cameramen acts might not be committed. Others felt that the mob was beyond appeal to mercy. They stayed and won Pulitzer Prizes. Were they right? 

Bill Eppridge
[Photographer, b. 1938, Buenos Aires, d. 2013, Danbury, Connecticut.]

 There in front of me was the Senator on the floor being held by the busboy. There was nobody else around, and I made my first frame, and I forgot to focus the camera. The second frame was a little more in focus… then just for a second, while everything was open, the busboy looked up, and he had this look in his eye. I made that picture, and then suddenly the whole situation closed in again. And it became bedlam.(On the 1968 shooting of U.S. presidential candidate Bobby Kennedy.) 

Hans Magnus Enzensberger
[Writer and poet, b. 1929, Kaufbeuren, Germany, lives in Munich.]

 The reality in which a camera turns up is always “posed,” e.g., the moon landing.