I have a recurring nightmare that I wake up in a gutter with nothing. I've had it all my life. That's why I work, I think.

Building your own house is a primal urge, one of those universal genetic drives like the need to provide for your family.

Sustainability is now a big baggy sack in which people throw all kinds of old ideas, hot air and dodgy activities in order to be able to greenwash their products and feel good.

Awesome is loud but awe is quiet.

Generally speaking, I think that if you do anything with commitment and passion, it will come good.

I've got a farm in Somerset, and I think it's God's own country. I love it.

I don't want anything that I buy to have done any harm to anyone or anything.

Living an environmentally responsible lifestyle can seem like a Scrooge-like list of don'ts. Don't take that flight, don't buy that car, don't eat those blueberries flown in from somewhere far-flung.

I spend a frightening amount of money on books.

Life involves other people and it is a compromise.

Every decently-made object, from a house to a lamp post to a bridge, spoon or egg cup, is not just a piece of 'stuff' but a physical embodiment of human energy, testimony to the magical ability of our species to take raw materials and turn them into things of use, value and beauty.

I cannot look at modern buildings without thinking of historical ones.

I don't enjoy living in a white box flooded with light. I like shadows, small spaces, old furniture.

I admire anyone that follows the road less travelled.

Architecture was pretty much the sexiest thing to be doing from 1700-1800.