I love when it goes soft and even sometimes if there’s movement there’s a little blur on things, but I don’t know, everybody seems to like things pin sharp these days, I think it’s a shame.
Grace Coddington, The September Issue

Source: thresca

Today I finally overcame /
Tryin’ to fit the world inside a picture frame /
John Mayer, 3x5
I never have taken a picture I’ve intended. They’re always better or worse.
Diane Arbus
At some point in life the world’s beauty becomes enough. You don’t need to photograph, paint or even remember it. It is enough. No record of it needs to be kept and you don’t need someone to share it with or tell it to. When that happens - that letting go - you let go because you can.
Toni Morrison
Old photographs are very deceiving. They give us the illusion that we are alive in them, and it’s not true. The person we are looking at no longer exists, and if that person could see us, he or she would not recognize him or herself in us. Who’s that looking at me so sadly, he or she would say.
José Saramago
A hundredth of a second here, a hundredth of a second there - even if you put them end to end, they still only add up to one, two, perhaps three seconds, snatched from eternity.
Robert Doisneau
He had decided, without consulting me, not to bring a flash on this trip. The flash is for weddings and funerals, he said. What needs to be photographed will be photographed.
Aleksander Hemon, The Lazarus Project (via thebronzemedal)

Source: thebronzemedal

I may still not know what I want to be when I grow up, but I do know that someday I want to live in a house filled with my books and travel souvenirs. And the walls that aren’t covered in bookshelves will be covered with photos of my family and friends. When I leave the house I will be going to a job I love, and I’ll return to a person I love. So, that’s the dream I’m working on.
Amber Morley (via robot-heart)

Source: robot-heart

I didn’t want my picture taken because I was going to cry. I didn’t know why I was going to cry, but I knew that if anybody spoke to me or looked at me too closely the tears would fly out of my eyes and the sobs would fly out of my throat and I’d cry for a week. I could feel the tears brimming and sloshing in me like water in a glass that is unsteady and too full.
sylvia plath, the bell jar. (via willowstream)