My mind grows very uncomfortable at times, such as tonight. I am haunted by the thought that the poetry in me is rapidly drying out, i.e. - . that last year or the year before, I saw more beauty in nature or with a more innocent eye. Perhaps I expect great returns all at once from merely looking towards an ideal. Perhaps as I travel towards it, poetry will reawaken.
Charles E. Burchfield, September 11, 1914