I tell you, it is easier to build a grand opera or a city center than to build a personal house.

Nothing is as dangerous in architecture as dealing with separated problems. If we split life into separated problems we split the possibilities to make good building art.

Form must have a content, and that content must be linked with nature.

Human life is a combination of tragedy and comedy. The shapes and designs that surround us are the music accompanying this tragedy and this comedy.

The ultimate goal of the architect...is to create a paradise. Every house, every product of architecture... should be a fruit of our endeavour to build an earthly paradise for people.

Building art is a synthesis of life in materialised form. We should try to bring in under the same hat not a splintered way of thinking, but all in harmony together.

Beauty is the harmony of purpose and form.

God created paper for the purpose of drawing architecture on it. Everything else is at least for me an abuse of paper.

Modern architecture does not mean the use of immature new materials; the main thing is to refine materials in a more human direction.

We should work for simple, good, undecorated things, but things which are in harmony with the human being and organically suited to the little man in the street.

Objects are made to be completed by the human mind.

Sadly enough, the most painful goodbyes are the ones that are left unsaid and never explained.

As the waves relentlessly seek the shore, so my thoughts continually return to you.

There are often some hundred times, a thousand times, before you can really see it for the first time.

Even brilliant scientists Google themselves.

People come and go around you, but you're never the one getting the big stuff. I like that.

Don't fight your problem. Know that there is a solution.

Black women rock the cradle, and whoever rocks the cradle rocks the future.

You sounded like someone who should be singing on a cruise ship. Halfway through your song, I wished the ship was sinking.

... the current of time slowing down in the gravitational field of oblivion.

You are strangely troublesome.