“A photograph is a moment. When you press the button, it will never come back.”

© Weegee (aka Arthur Fellig), ca. 1945, Love in the Cinema (Infrared photograph), Palace Theatre, New York

“Sometimes, watching a movie is a bit like being raped.”
― Luis Buñuel, My Last Sigh

“We photograph things in order to drive them out of our minds. My stories are a way of shutting my eyes.”
“I don’t have a philosophy. I have a camera.”
“I regret nothing. There have been things I missed, but I ask no questions, because I have loved it, such as it has been, even the moments of emptiness, even the unanswered - and that I loved it, that is the unanswered in my life.”
— Ayn Rand, The Fountainhead
“There’s a point in life when you get tired of chasing everyone and trying to fix everything, but it’s not giving up. It’s realizing that you don’t need certain people and their crap.”
“Everybody pays attention to pictures of things. Nobody pays attention to things themselves.”
— Kurt Vonnegut (via likeafieldmouse)

© George S. Zimbel, 1958, Going to class, MIT

“Schools train you to be ignorant with style […] they prepare you to be a usable victim for a military industrial complex that needs manpower. As long as you’re just smart enough to do a job and just dumb enough to swallow what they feed you, you’re going to be alright […] So I believe that schools mechanically and very specifically try and breed out any hint of creative thought in the kids that are coming up.” Frank Zappa

© Irina Ionesco, 1976, 'Griffe' ('Claw')

“And who are you, the proud Lord said that I must bow so low? Only a cat of a different coat, that’s all the truth I know. In a coat of gold or a coat of red, a lion still has claws. And, mine are as long and sharp, my Lord as long and sharp as yours. And so he spoke, and so he spoke, that Lord of Castamere, but now the rains weep o’er his hall, with no one there to hear. Yes, now the rains weep o’er his hall, and not a soul to hear.” ― George R.R. Martin, A Storm of Swords

© John Malmin / LA Times, March 16, 1972, Leo Altoonian, 85, waits in the lobby of the fire-damaged Barclay Hotel for his turn to get belongings out of his room

Read the full story behind the picture here.

“The house was burning, the yellow-red sky was like the sunset… Nothing would be left, the golden ferns and the silver ferns, the orchids, the ginger lilies and the roses… When they had finished, there would be nothing left but blackened walls and the mounting stone. That was always left. That could not be stolen or burned.”  ― Jean Rhys, Wide Sargasso Sea