An Excess Of Childhood Is The Germ

Dreaming By The River, I Dedicated My Imagination To Water, To Clear, Green Water, The Water That Makes The Meadows Green.

The Reflected World Is The Conquest Of Calm.

We Are Never Real Historians, But Always Near Poets, And Our Emotion Is Perhaps Nothing But An Expression Of A Poetry That Was Lost.

Sometimes The House Of The Future Is Better Built, Lighter And Larger Than All The Houses Of The Past, So That The Image Of The Dream House Is Opposed To That Of The Childhood Home. Late In Life, With Indomitable Courage, We Continue To Say That We Are Going To Do What We Have Not Yet Done: We Are Going To Build A House. This Dream House May Be Merely A Dream Of Ownership, The Embodiment Of Everything That Is Considered Convenient, Comfortable, Healthy, Sound, Desirable, By Other People. It Must Therefore Satisfy Both Pride And Reason, Two Irreconcilable Terms.

Our House Is Our Corner Of The World.