Charles E. Burchfield (1893-1967)

ical line and weavings.  Once in the afternoon as I looked out over illimitable spaces in the sky, an overpowering sense of loneliness came over me – the loneliness of fall.  How like fall it already seems.

     Work is comparatively easy at the shop.  I am now taking Coffee’s place and we are all caught up.  This morning Schweitz and I, who are desk mates, got into a heated argument about deformed people.  There is a fellow in town who is a veritable cartoon.  He has absolutely no chin, whatever – it all seems to have gone to his nose, which is a monstrous creation.  The first time I saw him I almost laughed outright and he grows funnier every time I see him. Schweitz then proceeded to call me down, saying that the fellows appearance should only excite pity. We had it back and forth sometime then. I said that at heart I really pitied the fellow but that my