Algernon Blackwood,
The Garden of Survival — Chapter VII
(1918)
“ This glorious spot, once sacred to our dreams, was like a great backyard--the Backyard of the County--while the view we loved as the birthplace of all possible adventure, seemed to me now without spaciousness or distinction. The trees and hedges cramped the little fields and broke their rhythm. No great winds ever swept them clean. The landscape was confused: there was no adventure in it, suggestion least of all. ”
