[Photography] makes its images by means anybody and everybody uses for the banal purposes, just as poetry makes its structures, its indivisibilities of music and meaning, out of the same language used for utilitarian purposes, for idle chatter, or for uninspired lying. Because of this resemblance in the conditions of the two arts—because the camera, like language, is put to constant nonartistic use, quotidian use by nonspecialists, as the painter's materials (though often misused) are not—a poet finds, I think, a kind of simulation and confirmation in experiencing the work of photographic artists that is more specific, closer to his poetic activity, than the pleasure and love he feels in looking at paintings.