Cities, Like Dreams, Are Made Of Desires

Myth Is The Hidden Part Of Every Story, The Buried Part, The Region That Is Still Unexplored Because There Are As Yet No Words To Enable Us To Get There. Myth Is Nourished By Silence As Well As By Words.

The City, However, Does Not Tell Its Past, But Contains It Like The Lines Of A Hand

Very Often The Effort Men Put Into Activities That Seem Completely Useless Turns Out To Be Extremely Important In Ways No One Could Foresee. Play Has Always Been The Mainspring Of Culture.

The Satirist Is Prevented By Repulsion From Gaining A Better Knowledge Of The World He Is Attracted To, Yet He Is Forced By Attraction To Concern Himself With The World That Repels Him.

There Is Still One Of Which You Never Speak.' Marco Polo Bowed His Head. 'venice,' The Khan Said. Marco Smiled. 'what Else Do You Believe I Have Been Talking To You About?' The Emperor Did Not Turn A Hair. 'and Yet I Have Never Heard You Mention That Name.' And Polo Said: 'every Time I Describe A City I Am Saying Something About Venice.