Robert Adams
[Photographer and writer, b. 1937, Orange, New Jersey, lives in Astoria, Oregon.]
Both poetry and photography tend toward metaphor. 
Luc Delahaye
[Photographer, b. 1962, Tours, France, lives in Paris.]
Being an artist is nothing, or at least, not enough; what you want is to be a poet. Tristan Tzara (Sami Rosenstock)
[Writer and artist, b. 1896, Moineti, Bacu, Romania, d. 1963, Paris.]
gloomy procession oh mechanics of the calendarwhere the synthetic photographs of days appear
the doll in the grave
Stephen Spender
[Writer, poet, and critic, b. 1909, London, England, d. 1995, London.]
Dead friend, this picture proves there was an instantWhen—mirror of midday—you sent
Shadow and light from living flesh into
The sensitive dark instrument.
Robert Frank
[Photographer and filmmaker, b. 1924, Zürich, Switzerland, lives in Mabou, Cape Breton, Nova Scotia, Canada, and New York.]
When people look at my pictures I want them to feel the way they do when they want to read a line of a poem twice. Tod Papageorge
[Photographer, b. 1940, Portsmouth, New Hampshire, lives in New Haven, Connecticut.]
Photographing in the street with a Leica doesn’t have much to do with planning. You walk out the door and—bang!—you’re part of the great urban cavalcade. But unlike everyone else, you’re carrying an amazing little machine that, joined with a lot of effort, can pull poetry out of a walk downtown. Henri Cartier-Bresson
[Photographer and painter, b. 1908, Chanteloup, France, d. 2004, Paris.]
I’m not responsible for my photographs. Photography is not documentary, but intuition, a poetic experience. It’s drowning yourself, dissolving yourself and then sniff, sniff, sniff—being sensitive to coincidence. You can’t go looking for it; you can’t want it, or you won’t get it. First you must lose your self. Then it happens. Alec Soth
[Photographer, b. 1969, Minneapolis, Minnesota, lives in Saint Paul, Minnesota.]
[Photography is] very related to poetry. It’s suggestive and fragmentary and unsatisfying in a lot of ways. It’s as much about what you leave out as what you put in.