Any house is a far too complicated, clumsy, fussy, mechanical counterfeit of the human body… The whole interior is a kind of stomach that attempts to digest objects… The whole life of the average house, it seems, is a sort of indigestion. A body in ill repair, suffering indisposition—constant tinkering and doctoring to keep alive. It is a marvel, we its infesters do not go insane in it and with it. Perhaps it is a form of insanity we have put into it.
—Frank Lloyd Wright, “The Cardboard House,” 1931