Charles Burchfield, Journals, December 2, 1947

A dream—Someone, (possibly the publishers) had sent me an advance copy of a new book—the world as it appeared to a child (in this case, a girl)—with many illustrations by some young artist. As I leafed thru it, all at once I myself was in the farm home of the little girl—it was L- shaped, and I stood in the hall at the corner. I thought that the pictures were marvels of imaginative power, and conventionalization, a true visual record of the actual "visions" of a child. One was the light coming into a window over the top of an old Victorian chair, or bed-stead. The halation of light, as it broke over the object, as conventionalized into a beautiful significant design, full of the glory of a child's innocent + unquestioning belief in God. I felt a warm protectiveness surrounding me, from all corners of the house. Each picture, as I looked at it, became translated into the actual scene in the house itself, so that I, in truth, was the child, grown up, but being allowed to peek into a lost world.

Charles E. Burchfield, December 2, 1947