“Let us leave a splendid legacy for our children…let us turn to them and say, this you inherit: guard it well, for it is far more precious than money…and once destroyed, nature’s beauty cannot be repurchased at any price.”

You don’t take a photograph, you make it.

When words become unclear, I shall focus with photographs. When images become inadequate, I shall be content with silence.

The artist and the photographer seek the mysteries and the adventure of experience in nature.

The camera cannot, but the photographer can.

I believe the approach of the artist and the approach of the environmentalist are fairly close in that both are, to a rather impressive degree, concerned with the affirmation of life.

To visualize an image (in whole or in part) is to see clearly in the mind prior to exposure, a continuous projection from composing the image through the final print.

A photograph is not an accident – it is a concept.

In wisdom gathered over time I have found that every experience is a form of exploration.

Sometimes I do get to places just when God’s ready to have somebody click the shutter.

The craft of photography is the key to good images.

We make images to “honor what is greater and more interesting than we are.”

I know that I am one with beauty and that my comrades are one. Let our souls be mountains, Let our spirits be stars, Let our hearts be worlds.

With all art expression, when something is seen, it is a vivid experience, sudden, compelling, and inevitable.

Photography is an austere and blazing poetry of the real.

Yosemite Valley, to me, is always a sunrise, a glitter of green and golden wonder in a vast edifice of stone and space.

There are always two people in every picture: the photographer and the viewer.

Listen to the beat of beauty with your heart.

And she started flying, just like the beautiful butterfly she is.

True beauty is reflected from within.

She is like a beautiful night. Full of stars and darkness.

Darling, Crying over beauty sometimes is fine; You are only human after all.

And through all your phases you are still beautiful.

The beauty in the suffering is not the lack of love they have, it’s the depth of love they swam into that drowned them among their highest waters.

Your poems are so beautiful I almost forgot the pain you lived to pen them-from pain comes with beautiful things.