The Adventures of the Peerless Peer by Philip Jose Farmer

By Philip Jose Farmer

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He had never learned the process of thinking about other people. But he wondered, at times, what made them such as they were. He wondered again, thinking of the Dean. There was an important secret involved somewhere in that question, he thought. There was a principle which he must discover. But he stopped. He saw the sunlight of late afternoon, held still in the moment before it was to fade, on the gray limestone of a stringcourse running along the brick wall of the Institute building. He forgot men, the Dean and the principle behind the Dean, which he wanted to discover.

I don't think you understood me,” said Roark. ” “I won't be back. ” “I don't understand you,” said the Dean stiffly. “Is there any point in explaining? ” “If you wish. I want to be an architect, not an archeologist. I see no purpose in doing Renaissance villas. ” “My dear boy, the great style of the Renaissance is far from dead. ” “They are. And they will be. ” “I came here to learn about building. When I was given a project, its only value to me was to learn to solve it as I would solve I a real one in the future.

He had not added a single object to the bare necessities of furniture which she had provided; no pictures, no pennants, no cheering human touch. He had brought nothing to the room but his clothes and his drawings; there were few clothes and too many drawings; they were stacked high in one comer; sometimes she thought that the drawings lived there, not the man. Roark walked now to these drawings; they were the first things to be packed. He lifted one of them, then the next, then another. He stood looking at the broad sheets.

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