The mother art is architecture. Without an architecture of our own we have no soul of our own civilization.

The mother art is architecture. Without an architecture of our own we have no soul of our own civilization.

Architecture is a social act and the material theater of human activity.

Architecture is a social act and the material theater of human activity.

There was King Bradmond's palace,
Was never none richer, the story says:
For all the windows and read more

There was King Bradmond's palace,
Was never none richer, the story says:
For all the windows and the walls
Were painted with gold, both towers and halls;
Pillars and doors all were of brass;
Windows of latten were set with glass;
It was so rich in many wise,
That it was like a paradise.

When I lately stood with a friend before [the cathedral of]
Amiens, . . . he asked me how read more

When I lately stood with a friend before [the cathedral of]
Amiens, . . . he asked me how it happens that we can no longer
build such piles? I replied: "Dear Alphonse, men in those days
had convictions (Ueberzeugungen), we moderns have opinions
(Meinungen) and it requires something more than an opinion to
build a Gothic cathedral.

Architecture, of all the arts, is the one which acts the most slowly, but the most surely, on the soul

Architecture, of all the arts, is the one which acts the most slowly, but the most surely, on the soul

There will never be great architects or great architecture
without great patrons.

There will never be great architects or great architecture
without great patrons.

Rich windows that exclude the light,
And passages that lead to nothing.

Rich windows that exclude the light,
And passages that lead to nothing.

For he is our peace, who hath made both one, and hath broken down
the middle wall of partition read more

For he is our peace, who hath made both one, and hath broken down
the middle wall of partition between us; . . .

The architect
Built his great heart into these sculptured stones,
And with him toiled his children, and read more

The architect
Built his great heart into these sculptured stones,
And with him toiled his children, and their lives
Were builded, with his own, into the walls,
As offerings unto God.