So Still Were The Big

Oh, Spring! I Want To Go Out And Feel You And Get Inspiration. My Old Things Seem Dead. I Want Fresh Contacts, More Vital Searching.

There Was Neither Horizon, Cloud, Nor Sound; Of That Pink, Spread Silence Even I Had Become Part, Belonging As Much To Sky As To Earth.

There Is A Need To Go Deeper, To Let Myself Go Completely, To Enter Into The Surroundings In The Real Fellowship Of Oneness, To Lift Above The Outer Shell, Out Into The Depth And Wideness Where God Is The Recognized Centre And Everything Is In Time With Everything, And The Key-note Is God.

Sometimes I Could Quit Paint And Take To Charring. It Must Be Fine To Clean Perfectly, To Shine And Polish And Know That It Could Not Be Done Better. In Painting That Never Occurs.

You Always Feel When You Look It Straight In The Eye That You Could Have Put More Into It, Could Have Let Yourself Go And Dug Harder.