Don DeLillo Quotes

I love the mountains, the light. I'm a real light junkie.

And in fact I don't believe there is such a thing as a definitive picture of something. The land is a living, breathing thing and light changes its character every second of every day. That's why I love it so much.

Nor ever yet the melting rainbow's vernal-tinctur'd hues to me have shone so pleasing, as when first the hand of science pointed out the path in which the sun-beams gleaming from the west fall on the watery cloud.

... there are shadows because there are hills.

When the magic hour arrives, my thoughts center on light rather than on the landscape. I search for perfect light, then hunt for something earthbound to match with it.

The sun was a molten coin burning a circle in the low-hanging overcast, surrounded by a fairy-ring of moisture.

Shadows are in reality, when the sun is shining, the most conspicuous thing in a landscape, next to the highest lights.

The lions taught me photography. They taught me patience and the sense of beauty, a beauty that penetrates you.

I am inspired and affected by Aspen, the light and the landscape and the natural world.

The memories of shooting in Iceland are amazing.

I love old industrial imagery and smokestacks belching pollution, maybe because Iceland doesn't have any industry, just mountains and beautiful nature.

The earth is a beautiful planet.

Bless... the two painting masters who first pointed out to me that there was coming and going among trees, that there was sunlight in shadows.

If we had no winter, the spring would not be so pleasant.

After a day of cloud and wind and rain Sometimes the setting sun breaks out again, And touching all the darksome woods with light, Smiles on the fields until they laugh and sing, Then like a ruby from the horizon's ring, Drops down into the night.

Bad weather makes for good photography.

The shadows in the early morning don't tell much. The shadows rest at that time. So it's useless to gaze very early in the day. Around six in the morning the shadows wake up, and they are best around five in the afternoon. Then they are fully awake.

Dark clouds become heaven's flowers when kissed by light.

Fading light buttered the ridges until shadows licked them clean and they were lost to nightfall.

Is not light grander than fire?

Elsewhere the sky is the roof of the world; but here the earth was the floor of the sky.

In front, the sun climbs slow, how slowly, but westward, look, the land is bright.

Over the river a golden ray of sun came through the hosts of leaden rain clouds.