The landscape’s infinite variety continually proved to us that we had not yet tasted all the forms of happiness, meditation or melancholy that it possibly contained. I know that on certain days of my childhood, when I was still subject to sadness, there were moments on the moor in Brittany when it would suddenly fly from me and take refuge in the landscape which seemed to me full of sympathy and understanding. And so it was outside me that I could look at my sadness, with a delicious sense of ease.
Perpetual novelty.
André Gide, Fruits of the Earth, (New York: Penguin, 1970 [1897])
http://viewshed.matinic.us/2014/09/05/735/