I Am The Place In Which Something

In The Case Of European Towns, The Passing Of Centuries Provides An Enhancement; In The Case Of American Towns, The Passing Of Years Brings Degeneration. It Is Not Simply That They Have Been Newly Built; They Were Built So As To Be Renewable As Quickly As They Were Put Up, That Is, Badly.

The Musical Emotion Springs Precisely From The Fact That At Each Moment The Composer Withholds Or Adds More Or Less Than The Listener Anticipates On The Basis Of A Pattern That He Thinks He Can Guess, But That He Is Incapable Of Wholly Divining. . . .

While I Complain Of Being Able To Glimpse No More Than The Shadow Of The Past, I May Be Insensitive To Reality As It Is Taking Shape At This Very Moment, Since I Have Not Reached The Stage Of Development At Which I Would Be Capable Of Perceiving It. A Few Hundred Years Hence, In This Same Place, Another Traveller, As Despairing As Myself, Will Mourn The Disappearance Of What I Might Have Seen, But Failed To See.

Our Students Wanted To Know Everything: But Only The Newest Theory Seemed To Them Worth Bothering With. Knowing Nothing Of The Intellectual Achievements Of The Past, They Kept Fresh And Intact Their Enthusiasm For 'the Latest Thing'. Fashion Dominated Their Interest: They Valued Ideas Not For Themselves But For The Prestige That They Could Wring From Them.

Objects Are What Matter. Only They Carry The Evidence That Throughout The Centuries Something Really Happened Among Human Beings.