A deeply personal memoir from one of Canada’s most celebrated architects. In this personal account of A.J. Diamond’s life and work, he shares how he came to be the founder of the leading architecture firm Diamond Schmitt, one of Canada’s most successful architecture companies. He also explains his principles of design, which at their core are about making a positive impact in the world, considering the needs of the content, client, and context. Diamond gives insight into his design principles in relation to some of his most notable projects, including the Four Seasons Centre for the Performing Arts in Toronto, la Maison symphonique de Montréal, the Mariinsky II Theatre in Saint Petersburg, and the new city hall in Jerusalem. Diamond also chronicles his family ancestry, his childhood in South Africa, from his birth in his grandfather’s study in the small provincial town of Piet Retief on the borders of Eswatini (Swaziland) and Mozambique, to his university days at the University of Cape Town and Oxford ― where he played rugby at the international level, scoring two winning tries for the Oxford Blues against Australia ― and the University of Pennsylvania. His memoir traces his immigration to the U.S. and, eventually, Canada as well as his growing architectural practice in Toronto, where he focused on the issues facing his chosen city.  Jack Diamond and his firm have created landmark buildings both at home and abroad, relentlessly guided by principle and his commitment to make a better world.… I have long admired him, but reading his life story has given me a deeper appreciation of just what an interesting journey he has travelled in making his difference in the world. ― J Robert S Prichard, OC, OOnt, President Emeritus, President Emeritus, University of Toronto Diamond has written a memoir with the same qualities as his buildings and sketches: beautifully crafted, nothing in excess but rich in hidden insights and perspectives. A great read, wonderful stories, beautifully told. ― Bob Rae, former premier of Ontario and Canadian Ambassador to the U.N. Diamond's belief in architecture as the mother art is capable of reconciling often opposing forces to create places of meaning for which people have always yearned. ― David Crombie, former mayor of Toronto A deeply beautiful memoir ― wise, measured, grateful ― a moving assertion of what it means to live a life of passion, civic responsibility, and intense engagement with the world. ― Anne Michaels, author of Fugitive Pieces A.J. Diamond (1932-2022) was a Royal Architectural Institute of Canada Gold Medallist, an Officer of the Order of Canada, and a member of the Order of Ontario. He received both the Jane Jacobs Lifetime Achievement Award and the Ontario Association of Architects Lifetime Design Achievement Award. His memoir Context & Content . Two Beginnings and Endings I was born in my grandfather’s library in Piet Retief, in South Africa’s Eastern Transvaal. It was, and probably still is, a dusty provincial town. The library had been made by enclosing a porch across the end of the house with windows. Bookshelves lined the solid end wall of the house. It was strewn with two or three zebra hides. There were two reimpi (made by a mesh of thin hide strips) chairs, and a divan that was covered by a kaross ― a throw made of the skins of smaller antelope sewn together. My parents lived in Cedarville, in East Griqualand, a village that was even smaller than Piet Retief. One of my earliest memories is going with my father by car to the station to collect the newspapers that were thrown onto the platform by the passing express train ― Cedarville didn’t warrant a stop by every train. The raised station platform sloped toward the rail line, and my father drove the car onto it, at right angles to the train track. He left me in the car and chatted with the station master while waiting for the express and its bundle of newspapers. He must have left the car in gear, because when I pushed the starter button out of curiosity, the car lurched forward. I can remember the look of panicked terror on my father’s face as he ran to pull on the hand brake just in time. The express roared by a few feet away, its terrifying bulk followed by silence and relief. The circuit court periodically met in Cedarville, with its accompaniment of magistrates, judges, court clerks, lawyers, and policemen. The policemen were mounted, and wore imposing gear ― spiked khaki pith helmets, leather leggings, chrome spurs, and chains to secure the spurs to their highly polished boots. After court was adjourned each day, the court officials and policemen would sit on our long verandah for a “sundowner.” The horses were tethered to posts in front of the hotel. My Basuto nanny used the police to frighten me into obedience, saying that if I misbehaved they would punish me. With my nanny’s dire warnings in my imagination, the sight of this assembled cavalry terrified me. One day I fled