The architects who benefit us most maybe those generous enough to lay aside their claims to genius in order to devote themselves to assembling graceful but predominantly unoriginal boxes. Architecture should have the confidence and the kindness to be a little boring.

The lesson? To respond to the unexpected and hurtful behavior of others with something more than a wipe of the glasses, to see it as a chance to expand our understanding.

Being funny should be an incidental byproduct of trying to get to something truthful, not a destination in itself.

Our sadness won’t be of the searing kind but more like a blend of joy and melancholy: joy at the perfection we see before us, melancholy at an awareness of how seldom we are sufficiently blessed to encounter anything of its kind. The flawless object throws into perspective the mediocrity that surrounds it. We are reminded of the way we would wish things always to be and of how incomplete our lives remain.

So many complaints boil down to the belly ache of the fragile, mortal, ignored ego in a vast and indifferent universe.

There is no such thing as work-life balance. Everything worth fighting for unbalances your life.

We may seek a fortune for no greater reason than to secure the respect and attention of people who would otherwise look straight through us.