Do no dishonour to the earth least you dishonour the spirit of man.
The leaves fall, the wind blows, and the farm country slowly changes from the summer cottons into its winter wools.
The world to-day is sick to its thin blood for lack of elemental things, for fire before the hands, for water welling from the earth, for air, for the dear earth itself underfoot. In my world of beach and dunes these elemental presences lived and had their being, and under their arch there moved an incomparable pageant of nature and the year.