There's a kind of beauty to a skyscraper.
I love my apartment in New York.
When I was 12, I forgot the keys to my parent's apartment. So I simply climbed up seven floors to get in.
I lived in a basement duplex on 96th Street on the Upper West Side.
We were on our way to the twentieth floor, sharing the elevator with two suits that had men inside them.
Forty Wall Street is probably the most beautiful tower in New York.
I would have felt more comfortable on a girder fifty floors above the street, catching white-hot rivets in a pail.
For Kips Bay, I had a wonderful client, William Zeckendorf, who was willing to gamble with me on using concrete and not brick for a high-rise apartment building. That was very innovative at the time.
I always had this New York fantasy of living in a glass high-rise.
Doing a house is so much harder than doing a skyscraper.
I base jumped off one of the highest buildings in the world.
I love to fly. I always wanted to fly. It's been one of my dreams since I was 3 years old. I remember saying to my mom, 3 years old, every day, 'I can fly!' Living on the ninth floor, it was dangerous.
[My mother] worked in the Seagram's Building; it's kind of an iconic '60s skyscraper on a floor so high that your ears popped. And all the women - the whole thing was so very Mad Men, very glamorous.
The skyscraper - any building over seven stories really - will come to be seen as an experimental building type that doesn't work well in an energy-starved economy.
I can't imagine finding success and then moving to a building in Manhattan with 300 strangers, like a bunch of little ants going home at night.
