Charles Burchfield, Journals, December 18, 1914

Arising sleepy, the approach of the sun awakened me with its beauty. A long streak of light as on the evening I saw Sundogs went up into the frozen air. As I watched and sketched I realized that this was as much a part of me as eating or sleeping. It was mine! The walk through the park - I remembered for the peculiar bluish smoke haze over the trees in the watery freshness of the air.
Hard at design all day.

Argument with Wilcox on the wisdom of Historic Ornament. The points were all on his side, and I could advance none without showing myself in the light of an egotist.

At mid-afternoon Travis came in and suggested going home at 5:10. We impulsively decided to do so and rush home to pack. That is the ideal way to do things. By train. We amble conversationally on idle topics.

Read Will Irwin’s “The ‘Glory’ of War.' I foresee an age of extreme nonresistance. All our  magazines and stories are becoming sweet and gentle. It is the natural outcome of the war in Europe. Carried to extremes in time of war, it would work as much harm as its antithesis “the religion of valor.” Non-resistance is the meanest most disgusting theory ever propounded. It is, “the religion of cowardice”

“Cowardice on a pedestal! with vermin worshiping at its feet.” Nietsche grows greater to me every day. Travis asked me if I wanted to own an auto-mobile and could not comprehend when I said I did not.

Charles Burchfield, December 18, 1914