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When you take a picture with an S.L.R., there is a distinctive sound, somewhere between a clatter and a thump; I worship my beat-up Nikon FE, but there is no denying that every snap reminds me of a cow kicking over a milk pail. With a Leica, all you hear is the shutter, which is the quietest on the market. The result—and this may be the most seductive reason for the Leica cult—is that a photograph sounds like a kiss.
— Anthony Lane, A Critic at Large: Candid Camera (New Yorker)
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The Eskimo has twenty words to express the conditions of snow. The Tokelau Islander has nine words for the ripeness of coconut. I have not one word to express my longing.
— Evan S. Connell, Notes from a Bottle Found on the Beach at Carmel. 21.
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Favorites from Plimpton’s list of objects thrown by Rangers fans: soup cans, persimmon, eggs, a folding chair, and a dead rabbit.
— The Weakerthans, Elegy for Gump Worsley
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