It is the nature of carnivores to get power and then, having disposed of their enemies, to deploy the emollient powers of Great Art to make themselves look like herbivores.

Everything that would be said against the Eixample's heirs, from Le Corbusier's 'ville radieuse' to Oscar Niemeyer's Brasilia, was already said, with far less justice, about the Eixample itself. And all its critics concurred that the basic mistake was to have left the planning of a city in the hands of a socialist.

The World's Fair audience tended to think of the machine as unqualifiedly good, strong, stupid and obedient. They thought of it as a giant slave, an untiring steel Negro, controlled by Reason in a world of infinite resources.

I have never been against new art as such; some of it is good, much is crap, most is somewhere in between.

We have entered a period of intolerance which combines, as it sometimes does in America, with a sugary taste for euphemism.

Landscape is to American painting what sex and psychoanalysis are to the American novel.

Confidence is the prize given to the mediocre