Let my studio be hallowed by large adventurous thoughts; and a feeling of security and isolation from the banalities of life; by dreams, and bold imaginings.
November!, when the seasons are going downhill into winter, and a feeling of darkness – great stretches of brown fields, cobwebby with pristine milkweed, silvered by old goldenrod, and broken by the startling white of snow on weedless patches.
Charles E. Burchfield, November 17, 1933