When I start my class I ask the students to write their signatures on pieces of paper and put them on a table. I have them look at them, and I point out, "They're all different, aren't they? That's you, that's you, that's you, that's you."

The safety requirements, which are necessary, spread everything out and push people farther and farther away from the stage and from each other.

I used to sketch - that's the way I thought out loud. Then they made a book of my sketches, and I got self-conscious, so now I don't do it much.

We live and work in boxes. People don't even notice that.

I don't make things with my hands, although I studied woodworking and made furniture.

Anybody I talk to agrees that maybe 2 percent of the building environment since the war, we could call architecture.

I think you've got to accept that certain things are in process that you can't change, that you can't overwhelm. The chaos of our cities, the randomness of our lives, the unpredictability of where you're going to be in ten years from now - all of those things are weighing on us, and yet there is a certain glimmer of control. If you act a certain way, and talk a certain way, you're going to draw certain forces to you.