The rich man who gives, steals twice over. First he steals the money and then the hearts of men.
Photography is an art which touches and grips one's own heart's blood.
But can they [great works] get rid of the worm that lies gnawing at the roots of my heart? No, never.
I felt as if there were invisible threads connecting us - I felt the invisible strands of her hair still winding around me - and thus as she disappeared completely beyond the sea - I still felt it, felt the pain where my heart was bleeding - because the threads could not be severed.
