The Fujiyama Of Architecture?at Once A Lofty

Adventure Is Humdrum And Routine Unless One Assimilates It, Unless One Relates It To A Central Core Which Grows Within And Gives It Contour And Significance. Raw Experience Is Empty, Just As Empty As The Forecastle Of A Whaler As In A Chamber Of A Counting House; For It Is Not What One Does, But In A Manifold Sense, What One Realizes That Keeps Existence From Being Vain And Trivial.

What Was Once Called The Objective World Is A Sort Of Rorschach Ink Blot, Into Which Each Culture, Each System Of Science And Religion, Each Type Of Personality, Reads A Meaning Only Remotely Derived From The Shape And Color Of The Blot Itself

The Philosophers Of Industrialism, From Bacon To Bentham, From Smith To Marx, Insisted That The Improvement Of Man's Condition Was The Highest Requirement Of Morality. But In What Did The Improvement Consist? The Answer Seemed So Obvious To Them That They Did Not Bother To Justify It: The Expansion And Fulfillment Of The Material Wants Of Man, And The Spread Of These Benefits, From The Few Who Had Once Preempted Them, To The Many Who Had So Long Lived On The Scraps Dives Had Thrown Into The Gutter.

We Have Created An Industrial Order Geared To Automatism, Where Feeble-mindedness, Native Or Acquired, Is Necessary For Docile Productivity In The Factory; And Where A Pervasive Neurosis Is The Final Gift Of The Meaningless Life That Issues Forth At The Other End.

Henceforward, I Shout To The Heavens, I Shall Deliver No More Lectures On Behalf Of Good Causes: I Am The Good Cause That Denies The Need For Such Lectures. Avaunt, Importuning World! Back To My Cell.