There was a time when I experienced architecture without thinking about it.

There is still a real need for good quality architecture, not paper architecture, but the real stuff.

I am convinced that a good building must be capable of absorbing the traces of human life and taking on a specific richness... I think of the patina of age on materials, of innumerable small scratches on surfaces, of varnish that has grown dull and brittle, and of edges polished by use.

You feel a certain way in a glass or concrete or limestone building. It has an effect on your skin - the same with plywood or veneer, or solid timber. Wood doesn't steal energy from your body the way glass and concrete steal heat. When it's hot, a wood house feels cooler than a concrete one, and when it's cold, the other way around.

I think the chance of finding beauty is higher if you don't work on it directly. Beauty in architecture is driven by practicality. This is what you learn from studying the old townscapes of the Swiss farmers.

My relationship to plants becomes closer and closer. They make me quiet; I like to be in their company.

In order to design buildings with a sensuous connection to life, one must think in a way that goes far beyond form and construction.