I long for old half-forgotten moods— For endless summer days—spent in the Ohio hills – for the July days of 1918 spent in the hill country south of Salem— for the old burning optimism of the joy of God’s newly created earth— (to feel confidently at home when alone in the hills) – for the old homely interest in common objects, such as sunlit tin roofs over stables, & the rough crowds of town loafing places —]
Unless I find some way out of this labyrinth of futility, I will be destroyed – Overindulgence in the joys of life will destroy those joys & life itself – Happiness becomes a menace. One should limit one’s enjoyment, and not consume all that is set before one.
Charles E. Burchfield, Journals, July 24, 1927 (tired of working for Birge)