Color Is The Fruit Of Life.

Come To The Edge.' 'we Can't. We're Afraid.' 'come To The Edge.' 'we Can't. We Will Fall!' 'come To The Edge.' And They Came. And He Pushed Them. And They Flew.

I Don't Want To Work. I Want To Smoke.

I Sing The Joy Of Wandering And The Pleasure Of The Wanderer's Death

A Structure Becomes Architectural, And Not Sculptural, When Its Elements No Longer Have Their Justification In Nature.

Vienne La Nuit Sonne L'heure Les Jours S'en Vont Je Demeure