I call architecture frozen music.

I have found among my papers a sheet . . . in which I call architecture frozen music.

Architecture is frozen music. [Ger., Die Backunst ist eine erstarrte Musik.]

To see I was born, To look is my call, To the tower sworn, I delight in all. I glance out far, And see what is near... You blessed eyes, What you saw everywhere,

A man should hear a little music, read a little poetry, and see a fine picture every day of his life, in order that worldly cares may not obliterate the sense of the beautiful which God has implanted in the human soul.

One ought, every day at least, to hear a little song, read a good poem, see a fine picture, and, if it were possible, to speak a few reasonable words.