Suppose, in a kind of contented abstinence, we were to refrain from trying to understand more of the landscape before us than the landscape cared to
display for us, that we were willing to follow the bend of bough and straggle of gravel and tilt of pole wherever the bend and the straggle and the tilt chanced to take us, that we
concerned ourselves not with pattern or profit or even pleasure but merely with
watching like a token sentinel in safe country, that we gave our eyes a quiet carte blanche and permitted our minds to play at liberty over the face of an untouched terrain?