Daido Moriyama
[Photographer, b. 1938, Ikeda-cho, Osaka, Japan, lives in Tokyo.]

 If an image is good, it is brought back to life by the feelings of the viewer. 

Chris Marker
[Photographer and filmmaker, b. 1921, Neuilly-sur-Seine, Île-de-France, d. 2012, Paris.]

 We feel more emotion... before an amateur photograph linked to our own life history than before the work of a Great Photographer, because his domain partakes of art, and the intent of the souvenir-object remains at the lower level of personal history. 

Paolo Pellegrin
[Photographer, b. 1964, Rome, lives in Paris.]

 We photographers live in a constant state of schizophrenia because of what we see, what we feel and what we have to overcome. 

Susie Linfield
[Writer and critic, New York, lives in New York.]

 The ability of photographs to conjure deep emotion is one of their great strengths. But this power—precisely because it is divorced from narrative, political context, and analysis—is equally a danger. Ironically, the more searing an image… the more misleading it can be. 

Man Ray (Emanuel Radnitsky)
[Artist, b. 1890, Philadelphia, Pennsylvania, d. 1976, Paris.]

 Cut out the eye from a photograph of one who has been loved but is seen no more.
Attach the eye to the pendulum of a metronome and regulate the weight to suit the tempo desired.
Keep going to the limit of endurance.
With a hammer well-aimed, try to destroy the whole at a single blow.
(1932, describing “Object To Be Destroyed,” made using a metronome and the photographed eye of artist, lover and collaborator Lee Miller who left him.) 

Paolo Roversi
[Photographer, b. 1947, Ravenna, Italy, lives in Paris.]

 There’s no logic in the realm of the imagination. It’s more about feelings, emotion and love. You can’t explain why you fell in love with someone because some emotions cannot be [described properly]. It’s the same for me with photography. 

Julia Margaret Cameron
[Photographer, b. 1815, Calcutta, India, d. 1879, Kalutara, Ceylon.]

 From the first moment I handled my lens with a tender ardour, and it has become to me as a living thing, with voice and memory and creative vigour. 

Jean Paul Sartre
[Writer and philosopher, b. 1905, Paris, d. 1980, Paris.]

 Here I am, bent over the keyhole; suddenly I hear a footstep. I shudder as a wave of shame sweeps over me. Somebody has seen me. 
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