Charles E. Burchfield (1893-1967)

Nov 23, 1920 –; How fortunate we are when we are children. The boy who has been wandering in the steaming swamps of early March on returning home passes thru a village of crude box-like houses. But they are not simply houses to him. He sees them with a vision already colored with the impression of startling white buttonwoods, of cat kins, and river birches whose lower parts are matted with muddy leaves; even the prosaic people he meets acquire some of the glamour that attended the call of the killdeer or meadowlark; and so when he arrives home he is not sure but that this little village was really saturated in the heart of the swamp. ; ; ; ; ; Nov 27, 1920 –; There are times, if we have been disposed to take stock of ourselves & are not pleased with the summary, when we are compelled to make definite resolutions -: From now on, we will wipe out such and such a failing