The princess calls, but there is no one, now, to hear her. - John Fowles

When you draw something it lives and when you photograph it it dies

Alive. Alive in the way that death is alive.

We lay on the ground and kissed. Perhaps you smile. That we only lay on the ground and kissed. You young people can lend your bodies now, play with them, give them as we could not. But remember that you have paid a price: that of a world rich in mystery and delicate emotion. It is not only species of animal that die out. But whole species of feeling. And if you are wise you will never pity the past for what it did not know. But pity yourself for what it did.