It is possible to make buildings by stringing together patterns, in a rather loose way. A building made like this, is an assembly of patterns. It is not dense. It is not profound. But it is also possible to put patterns together in such a way that many patterns overlap in the same physical space: the building is very dense; it has many meanings captured in a small space; and through this density, it becomes profound.

Images in the 20th century had a unique power where image became divorced from reality, and often more important than reality. Buildings were judged more by the way they looked in magazines than by the satisfaction people felt when using them.

Complexity is one of the great problems in environmental design.

When you make something, cleaning it out of structural debris is one of the most vital things you do.

The more living patterns there are in a place - a room, a building, or a town - the more it comes to life as an entirety, the more it glows, the more it has that self-maintaining fire which is the quality without a name.

Most of the wonderful places in the world were not made by architects but by the people.

We are searching for some kind of harmony between two intangibles: a form which we have not yet designed and a context which we cannot properly describe.