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| Photo by Henri Cartier-Bresson, Livorno, Italy 1933 |
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| Photo by Horst P. Horst for Vogue 1930 You cannot swim for new horizons until you have courage to lose sight of the shore. William Faulkner |
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| Photo by Ernst Haas, Misfits, 1960 All men are by nature free, you have therefore an undoubted liberty to depart whenever you please, but will have many and great difficulties to encounter in passing the frontiers. Voltaire Candide |
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| Photo by Jalali Bahman, Image of imagination You caught me fooling around for sombody new You caught me fooling around now I am losing you 'Cause you are a one man woman You' re one man woman You' re one man woman But I am a two timing man. Paul Anka One man woman, one woman man |
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| Photo by Alikhanzadeh Samira, Peace, 2013 I can write the saddest lines tonight. Write for example: ‘The night is fractured and they shiver, blue, those stars, in the distance’ The night wind turns in the sky and sings. I can write the saddest lines tonight. I loved her, sometimes she loved me too. On nights like these I held her in my arms. I kissed her greatly under the infinite sky. She loved me, sometimes I loved her too. How could I not have loved her huge, still eyes. I can write the saddest lines tonight. To think I don’t have her, to feel I have lost her. Hear the vast night, vaster without her. Lines fall on the soul like dew on the grass. What does it matter that I couldn’t keep her. The night is fractured and she is not with me. That is all. Someone sings far off. Far off, my soul is not content to have lost her. As though to reach her, my sight looks for her. My heart looks for her: she is not with me The same night whitens, in the same branches. We, from that time, we are not the same. I don’t love her, that’s certain, but how I loved her. My voice tried to find the breeze to reach her. Another’s kisses on her, like my kisses. Her voice, her bright body, infinite eyes. I don’t love her, that’s certain, but perhaps I love her. Love is brief: forgetting lasts so long. Since, on these nights, I held her in my arms, my soul is not content to have lost her. Pablo Neruda, If You Forget Me |
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| Photo by Yamamoto Masao, from the series Nakazora, 2001 As if you were on fire from within. The moon lives in the lining of your skin. Pablo Neruda |
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| Photo by Hans Richter I can't go back to yesterday because I was a different person then. Lewis Carroll Alice in Wonderland |
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| Photo by Robert Parkeharrison It takes courage to grown up and became who you really are. E. E. Cummings |
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| Photo by Josef Sudek, "From the window of my Atelier", series from 1940 to 1954 Every heart has its secret sorrows which the world knows not, and oftentimes we call a man cold, when he is only sad. Henry Wadsworth Longfellow |
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| Photo by Cristina De Middel, The Afronauts
Life
can
only be understood backwards;
but it must be lived forwards.
Kierkegaard
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| Photo by Arno Rafael Minkinnen, 2002, Freshwater Bay, Isle of Wright, England In secret we met, In silence I grieve, That thy heart could forget, thy spirit deceive. If I should meet thee After long years, How should I greet thee? With silence and tears. George Gordon Byron www.arno-rafael-minkinnen.com |
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| Photo by Robert Mapplethorpe, Phillip, Leg on Toes, 1979 |
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| Photo by Roger Ballen, Cloaked Figure, 2003 |
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| Photo by Brassai, Couple d'amoreux, quartier Place d'Italie, 1932 Love begins with love. Jean de La Bruyere |
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| Photo by Mario Cravo Neto, Voodoo Child, 1992 Our nature consists in motion, complete rest is death. Marcel Achard |
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| Photo by Pawel Bajew |
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| Sans titre, photo by Vincent Descotils
Les enfants qui s'aiment s'embrassent debout
Contre les portes de la nuit
Et les passants qui passent les désignent du doigt
Mais les enfants qui s'aiment
Ne sont là pour personne
Et c'est seulement leur ombre
Qui tremble dans la nuit
Excitant la rage des passants
Leur rage, leur mépris, leurs rires et leur envie
Les enfants qui s'aiment ne sont là pour personne
Ils sont ailleurs bien plus loin que la nuit
Bien plus haut que le jour
Dans l'éblouissante clarté de leur premier amour
Jacques Prévert |
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| Photo by Mimmo Pellicola There is nothing more tragic in life than the utter impossibility of changing what you have done. John Galsworthy |
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| Photo by Jim Long, Courtesy Wessel + O'Connor Fine Art, NY |
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| Photo by Heiko Hosoe "Barakei" (Killed by Roses, 1961) Life is the flower for which love is the honey. Victor Hugo |
