Donald McCullin
[Photographer, b. 1935, Finsbury Park, London, lives in Somerset, England.]

 I’m like an old junkie, in a way. You don’t stick syringes in your arm—you go straight for the most important part of your body, the brain. You are destroying it the moment you go to your first war. 
 You cannot walk on the water of hunger, misery, and death. You have to wade through to record them. 

Donald Trump (Drumpf)
[Businessman, liar, huckster, politician, b. 1946, New York, lives in Washington, D.C..]

 Be very careful, because in your hotel rooms and no matter where you go, you’re gonna probably have cameras. (Advice, offered while denying the existence of photo documents of him performing outer edge sexual practices in a Russian hotel room.) 

Robert Morris
[Artist and theorist, b. 1931, Kansas City, Missouri, lives in New York.]

 There is probably no defense against the malevolent powers of the photograph to convert every visible aspect of the world into a static, consumable image. 

Brassaï (Gyula Halász)
[Photographer, b. 1889, Brassó, Transylvania, Hungary (now Romania), d. 1984, Eze, Alpes-Maritimes, France.]

 There is always the danger of prostituting one’s gifts simply in order to live and to survive. The most difficult thing in life is to make money doing what you like to do. 

Arnold Genthe
[Photographer, b. 1869, Berlin, Germany, d. 1942, New York.]

 The tremendous development of the camera in recent years has been remarkable. Now almost anyone can take pictures, and most of them are doing it. But it is rather like giving a 6-year-old a pistol. (1937) 

Bob Dylan (Robert Zimmerman)
[Singer, songwriter, and artist, b. 1941, Hibbing, Minnesota, lives in Malibu, California.]

 It rubs me the wrong way, a camera... It’s a frightening thing. Cameras make ghosts out of people. 

Robert Capa (Endre Ernő Friedmann)
[Photographer, b. 1913, Budapest, Hungary, d. 1954, Thai Binh, Vietnam.]

 I had it bad. The empty camera trembled in my hands. It was a new kind of fear shaking my body from toe to hair, and twisting my face. (Remembrance of landing on Omaha Beach, D-Day.) 
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