You know, it is life that is right and the architect who is wrong.

Life never stops. The torment of men will be eternal, unless the function of creating and acting and changing, living intensely through each day, be considered an eternal joy.

We must kill the street. We shall truly enter into modern town planning only after we have accepted this preliminary determination.

Our world, like a charnel-house, is strewn with the detritus of dead epochs.

Architecture is the masterly, correct, and magnificent play of masses brought together in light. Our eyes are made to see forms in light: light and shade reveal these forms.

Our own epoch is determining, day by day, its own style. Our eyes, unhappily, are unable yet to discern it.

Modern life demands, and is waiting for, a new kind of plan, both for the house and the city.