The Lover's Fatal Identity Is Precisely This:

Le Langage Est Une Peau: Je Frotte Mon Langage Contre L'autre. Language Is A Skin; I Rub My Language Against Another Language.

What Love Lays Bare In Me Is Energy.

Architecture Is Always Dream And Function, Expression Of A Utopia And Instrument Of A Convenience.

New York... Is A City Of Geometric Heights, A Petrified Desert Of Grids And Lattices, An Inferno Of Greenish Abstraction Under A Flat Sky, A Real Metropolis From Which Man Is Absent By His Very Accumulation.

Eiffel Saw His Tower In The Form Of A Serious Object, Rational, Useful; Men Return It To Him In The Form Of A Great Baroque Dream Which Quite Naturally Touches On The Borders Of The Irrational ... Architecture Is Always Dream And Function, Expression Of A Utopia And Instrument Of A Convenience.