StevenBrisson:
Summer afternoon; to me those have always been the two most beautiful words in the English language.
StevenBrisson:
Life is like a ten-speed bicycle...most of us have gears we never use.
StevenBrisson:
If the heart of a man is depressed with cares, the mist is dispelled when a woman appears.
StevenBrisson:
Reality is only seen when the mirror is clean.
StevenBrisson:
The greatest event for the world is the arrival of a new and wise person.
StevenBrisson:
Chicago: LaSalle St. Bridge over river
StevenBrisson:
Life is like a stroll on the beach...walk as near to the edge as you can go.
StevenBrisson:
If at first you don't succeed, try, try again. Then quit. There's no point in being a damn fool about it.
StevenBrisson:
Don't ever take a fence down until you know why it was put up.
StevenBrisson:
iPhone: Fall in Chicago
StevenBrisson:
Mud, Sweat & Gears
StevenBrisson:
The limitations in your photography are in yourself, for what we see is what we are. (Explore)
StevenBrisson:
The more furious the pace, the more diminished the spirit.
StevenBrisson:
Music produces a kind of pleasure which human nature cannot do without.
StevenBrisson:
The best things in life aren't things.
StevenBrisson:
Life is like a landscape. You live in the midst of it but can describe it only from the vantage point of distance.
StevenBrisson:
If love is shelter, I'm going to walk in the rain.
StevenBrisson:
A photograph is memory in the raw.
StevenBrisson:
This is a valley of ashes...a fantastic farm where ashes grow like wheat (Explore, #76)
StevenBrisson:
I have heard the mermaids singing, each to each.
StevenBrisson:
Morning without you is a dwindled dawn.
StevenBrisson:
When one tugs at a single thing in nature, he finds it attached to the rest of the world.
StevenBrisson:
Neither a wise nor a brave man lies down on the tracks of history to wait for the train of the future to run over him.
StevenBrisson:
Everyone pushes a falling fence.
StevenBrisson:
Kites rise highest against the wind, not with it.
StevenBrisson:
All mushrooms are edible...once.
StevenBrisson:
Falling in love is like eating mushrooms...you never know if it's the real thing until it's too late.
StevenBrisson:
Nature alone is antique and the oldest art a mushroom. (Explore, #18)
StevenBrisson:
Poetry is the impish attempt to paint the color of the wind.
StevenBrisson:
There is a pleasure in the pathless woods.
