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

It is easy to take a photograph, but it is harder to make a masterpiece in photography than in any other art medium.

I think we can not categorize. Things do not fit into a mold.

I am sure the next step will be the electronic image, and I hope I shall live to see it. I trust that the creative eye will continue to function, whatever technological innovations may develop.

We all move on the fringes of eternity and are sometimes granted vistas through fabric of illusion.

A great photograph is a full expression of what one feels…

Ask yourself, ‘Why am I seeing and feeling this? How am I growing? What am I learning?’ Remember: Every coincidence is potentially meaningful.

No man has the right to dictate what other men should perceive, create or produce, but all should be encouraged to reveal themselves, their perceptions and emotions, and to build confidence in the creative spirit.

Some photographers take reality and impose the domination of their own thought and spirit. Others come before reality more tenderly and a photograph to them is an instrument of love and revelation.

Landscape photography is the supreme test of the photographer – and often the supreme disappointment.

A true photograph need not be explained, nor can it be contained in words.

It is the photographer, not the camera, that is the instrument.

I believe the world is incomprehensibly beautiful – an endless prospect of magic and wonder.

Millions of men have lived to fight, build palaces and boundaries, shape destinies and societies; but the compelling force of all times has been the force of originality and creation profoundly affecting the roots of human spirit.

Photograph not only what you see but also what you feel.

A great photograph is one that fully expresses what one feels, in the deepest sense, about what is being photographed.

The only things in my life that compatibly exists with this grand universe are the creative works of the human spirit.

You are my world and I am a lone planet forever just outside your orbit.

We’re the mirror of the cosmos, where stars collapse, born, and fade in unison.

With one look into your eyes, you take me dancing in galaxies and among the stars.

A narrative told in the infinite galaxy of colors that melt into white and, brushstrokes bourne upon land who are titled ‘human beings’.

Silence speaks too many judgments. Sometimes, it echoes more than a scream can crumble space up.

I am suffocating in the vacancy of the overflowing space, can you feel me reaching out?

Our galaxies collided and still, I loved you despite the destruction.

Our movements through time and space seem somehow trivial compared to a heap of boiled meat in broth, the smell of saffron, garlic, fishbone, and Pernod.