ed the
menace to our civilization of the unrestricted play of the masculine
forces--powerful, ruthless, disintegrating--the head dominating the
heart. It has taken the surgery of war to open our eyes, and behold
the spectacle of the entire German nation which by an intellectual
process appears to have killed out compassion, enthroning
_Schrecklichkeit_. In the heart alone dwells hope of salvation. "For
he who knows even a genuinely little of Mankind knows this truth: the
heart is greater than the head. For in the heart is Desire; and from
it come forth Courage and Magnanimity."

You have not thought deeply enough to know that the heart in
you is the woman in man. You have derided your femininity,
where you have suspected it; whereas, you should have known
its power, cherished and utilized it, for it is the hidden
well-spring of Intuition and Imagination. What can the brain
accomplish without these two? They are the man's two inner
eyes; without them he is stone blind. For the mind sets forth
their powers both together. One carries the light, the other
searches; and between them they find treasures. These they
bring to the brain, which first elaborates them, then says to
the will, "Do"--and Action follows. Poetically considered,
as far as the huge, disordered resultant mass of your
Architecture is concerned, Intuition and Imagination have not
gone forth to illuminate and search the hearts of the people.
Thus are its works stone blind.

It is the absence of poetry and beauty which makes our architecture
so depressing to the spirits. "Poetry as a living thing," says Mr.
Sullivan, "stands for the most telling quality that a man can impart
to his thoughts. Judged by this test your buildings are dreary, empty
places." Artists in words, like Lafcadio Hearn and Henry James, are
able to make articulate the sadness which our cities inspire, but
it is a blight which lies heavy on us all. Theodore Dreiser says, in
_Sister Carrie_--a book with so much bitter truth in it that it was
suppressed by the original publishers:

Once the bright days of summer pass by, a city takes on the
sombre garb of grey, wrapped in which it goes about its labors
during the long winter. Its endless buildings look grey,
its sky and its streets assume a sombre hue; the scattered,
leafless trees and wind-blown dust and paper but add to the
general solemnity of color. Th