“She came over and looked at the picture. Then she took my hand.
You know what that feels like?
Like what the astronauts will feel when they step onto the moon for the very first time.”

“She rested her head against his and felt, for the first time, what she would often feel with him: a self-affection. He made her like herself.”

“I know what it's like when the things you believe make you feel like you're on the outside looking in.”

“She felt like her soul was a handful of dice that were still rolling, and what came up would decide the shape that the rest of her life took.”

“It's like if you're an astronaut and you've been to the moon, what do you want to do with the rest of your life?”

“When you looked into my eyes,
I stood there like I was hyp-notized.
You sent a feeling to my spine,
A feeling warm and smooth and fine.
But all I could do were stand there paralyzed.
When we kissed, ooh what a thrill,
You took my hand and, ooh baby, what a chill.
I felt like grabbin' you real tight,
Squeeze and squeeze with all my might.
But all I could do were stand there paralyzed.”

“Photography for me is not looking, it's feeling. If you can't feel what you're looking at, then you're never going to get others to feel anything when they look at your pictures.”

“What it must feel like, I thought, to look at something, anything really, and know that it’s for the last time?”

“My grandmother—God bless her soul—a Yaqui Indian from northern Mexico, was the greatest teacher I’d ever had! And do you know what she taught me, she taught me that each and every day is un milagro given to us by God, and that work, that planting corn and squash with our two hands is holy. She taught me all this with kindness and invitation. Not with ridicule and looking down her nose at me and making me feel like less than human when I didn’t get it at first.”

“Before she knew what she was about, she was jumping about like a crazy woman, yelling, “Yes! Yes! I win!”

“You don’t win,” Anthony snapped.

“Oh, it feels like I’ve won,” she reveled.”