Graham Nash
[Musician, photographer, and collector, b. 1942, Blackpool, Lancashire, England, lives in Encino, California.]

 What I shoot are moments that disappear in the blink of an eye if you don’t have the courage or the discipline to have your camera with you. I can’t tell you how many fucking times I missed Elvis coming back on the elevator... and it pisses me off! I still try to carry my camera every single moment. 

Bea Nettles
[Photographer, b. 1946, Gainesville, Florida, lives in Asheville, North Carolina.]

 In my images I am attempting to make fantasies visible. 

Vladimir Nabokov
[Writer, b. 1899, St. Petersburg, Russia, d. 1977, Montreux, Switzerland.]

 All colors made me happy: even gray.
My eyes were such that literally they
Took photographs.  

Beaumont Newhall
[Photographer, writer, and historian, b. 1908, Lynn, Massachusetts, d. 1993, Santa Fe, New Mexico.]

 The present challenge to the photographer is to express inner significance through outward form. 

Arnold Newman
[Photographer, b. 1918, New York, d. 2006, New York.]

 I don’t care what you do with that negative, you can retouch it, you can spit on it, you can grind it underfoot. The only thing that matters is if it is honest. If [the picture] is honest, you and everybody can tell. If it is dishonest, you and everybody can tell. 

Laurel Nakadate
[Video artist and photographer, b. 1975, Austin, Texas, lives in New York.]

 Although I get a lot of ideas from things that have happened in my life, I see the final product as a place where my imagination meets my experience. What I love about photography is that nothing is really as it seems. 

Simon Norfolk
[Photographer, b. 1963, Lagos, Nigeria, lives in Brighton, England.]

 [My] pictures are about memory and forgetfulness. The evidence is dissolving. Bones crumble; human ash returns to soil; teeth, sandals, hair, bullets, axes disperse into atoms and molecules. Footprints in the snow will be erased by the next storm. The evidence of evil, like the evidence of good, obeys the universal laws of entropy. Heat cools, matter disintegrates, memories fade. If we let them. 

Ogden Nash
[Poet and humorist, b. 1902, Rye, New York, d. 1971, Baltimore, Maryland.]

 Some hate broccoli, some hate bacon
I hate having my picture taken.
How can your family claim to love you
And then demand a picture of you?