An artist is a creature driven by demons. He doesn't know why they choose him and he's usually too busy to wonder why.
There are no accidents in Nature.
No words will ever describe the exquisite beauty and charm of this mountain park – Nature’s landscape garden at once tenderly beautiful and sublime. No wonder it draws nature-lovers from all over the world.
Handle a book as a bee does a flower, extract its sweetness but do not damage it.
When I first caught sight of (Mount Shasta) over the braided folds of the Sacramento Valley I was fifty miles away and afoot, alone and weary. Yet all my blood turned to wine, and I have not been weary since.
I am very blessed. The Valley is full of people, but they do not annoy me. I revolve in pathless places and in higher rocks than the world and his ribbony wife can reach.
As long as I live, I'll hear waterfalls and birds and winds sing.
Anyone who says that softball is a boring game to watch isn't looking at the right things.
We are not apt to fear for the fearless, when we are companions in their danger.
[perfectionism leads to] a tendency to apologize preemptively for one's efforts, knowing from experience that there's sure to be something wrong with them.
The art of an artist must be his own art. It is. . . always a continuous chain of little inventions, little technical discoveries of ones own, in ones relation to the tool, the material and the colors.