2. There is a central quality which is the root criterion of life and spirit in a man, a town, a building, or a wilderness. This quality is objective and precise, but it cannot be named.
3. The search which we make for this quality, in our own lives, is the central search of any person, and the crux of any individual person's story. It is the search for those moments and situations when we are most alive.
4. In order to define this quality in buildings and in towns, we must begin by understanding that ever place is given its character by certain patterns of events that keep on happening there.
5. These patterns of events are always interlocked with certain geometric patterns in the space. Indeed, as we shall see, each building and each town is ultimately made out of these patterns in the space, and out of nothing else: they are the atoms and the molecules from which a building or a town is made.
6. The specific patterns of of which a building or a town is made may be alive or dead. To the extent they are alive, they let our inner forces loose, and set us free; but when they are dead, they keep us locked in inner conflict.
7. The more living patterns there are in a place--a room, a building, or a town--the more it comes to life as an entirety, the more it glows, the more it has that self-maintaining fire which is the quality without a name.
8. And when a building has this fire, then it becomes a part of nature. Like ocean waves, or blades of grass, its parts are governed by the endless play of repitition and variety created in the presence of the fact that all things pass. This is the quality itself.