So they even had an architect. He listened to them for perhaps a minute in Ratcliffe’s back room. Then he made an indescribable gesture and said, ‘Bah. You do not need advice. You are too poor. You have only your hands, and clay to make good brick. You dont have any money. You dont even have anything to copy: how can you go wrong?’
(…)
as the architect had told them, they had no money to buy bad taste with nor even anything from which to copy what bad taste might still have been within their compass;
-The Courthouse [A Name for the City]. Requiem for a Nun, 1955.