But you surely told me to listen, not to words, but to thought. How can I follow, if you are always thinking ahead of the words? You seem to take delight in it.
— Louis H. Sullivan, “Function and Form”
He’s just been around so long he knows everything.
— Phil, Groundhog Day
Taste is the smiling surface of a lake whose depths are great, impenetrable and cold.
— John Summerson, “William Butterfield; Or, The Glory Of Ugliness”
It will hit you like a bus.
— P. Adams Sitney
If you choose to believe.
— David Reinfurt
At some time or other in the life of every healthy young person there appears to be developed what has been styled ‘the collecting mania.’
— W. J. Holland, The Butterfly Book
What is the shape inside your head?
— RoseLee Goldberg
I believe the right question to ask, respecting all ornament, is simply this: Was it done with enjoyment-was the carver happy while he was about it?
— John Ruskin, “The Lamp of Life,” The Seven Lamps of Architecture
Simple as it may sound, the task of creative non-interference with letters is a rewarding and difficult calling. In ideal conditions, it is all that typographers are really asked to do - and it is enough.
— Robert Bringhurst, The Elements of Typographic Style
The role of sameness here is significant.
— Michael Koortbojian
And there is a small manmade object that Mr. Sugimoto fetched from a cabinet on a recent afternoon.
— Randy Kennedy, “‘Fossilizing’ With a Camera,” The New York Times
Have hope!
— Phi
To ask too much of a school is either to encourage superficial education (which is worse than none at all), or to extend school years beyond a reasonable limit, thus greatly retarding the time when young men should make their contacts with a different and more practical world.
— Paul P. Cret, “The Ecole des Beaux-Arts and Architectural Education”
Let it be.
— Shaggy & The Beatles Mashup, “Let It Be Me”
He could not stretch his Hand beyond his Body? If he could, then he would put his Arm, where there was before Space without Body.
— John Lock, “Simple Modes of Space”
I read merely to understand their meaning, and they well repaid my labours.
— Mary Shelley, Frankenstein
You love a fantasy compound image you have made.
— P. Adams Sitney
No, I don’t think that’s necessarily true.
— Scottie, Vertigo
For all my sweat, my blood runs weak.
— Mumford & Sons, “Below My Feet”
We are no longer able to recognize our true bearing and cannot see the forest because of the trees.
— Gottfried Semper, Prospectus