My view-point is the painter’s, the poet’s; ah, I am a romanticist! But my book is true. The romanticist finds truth without seeking it; it is before him, around him, and he gathers it all with the joy of the child that plucks the flowers in the fields. _Truth_ is not knowledge: it belongs to temperament; it is vision! The child and the romanticist love the beautiful, that is all: _truth_ is there! I have loved trees all my life; they were the friends of my baby years. Though the land of the trees seemed far away from the close-built houses, I wandered thither with great joy and never knew that my little feet were tired. The tall aspens were the most wonderful things in the world: they are …
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