"I found myself lying on the bank of a cart-road in the sand, with no prospect whatever but a small aspen tree against a blue sky. Languidly, but not idly, I began to draw it and as I drew; the languor passed away: the beautiful lines insisted on being traced, without weariness. More and more the beautiful they became, as each rose out of the rest, and took its place in the air. With wonder increasing every instant, I saw that they 'composed' themselves, by finer laws than any known to man. At last the tree was there and everything that I had thought before about trees, nowhere."
John Ruskin, Praeterita
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