Charles E. Burchfield, Journals, August 17, 1914 

Are those exquisite rainbow colors in the sky the Autumnal colors in the forming to be brought down by a succession of frosts? Are they so pale + dreamy because we see them through our dense earthy atmosphere?

I often think what wonderful air currents must prevail among the clouds, that they are woven into such diverse shapes and hap-hazard directions.

With twilight, a strong cool breeze commences to blow from the south. Is not a south wind most in keeping with that poetical sky!

If all musical sounds were to be forever silenced – orchestras, birds, human voices, birds + insects - and I were allowed to retain one sound to cheer me, I would ask that the wind might play in the tree-tops.

The wind!  Motion is life. All is dead that stands still. Last night, after I had gone to bed in a sort of half-conscious state my mind reviewed all that I had seen during the day.

Charles E. Burchfield, Journals, August 17, 1914