A city is not gauged by its length and width, but by the

"A city is not gauged by its length and width, but by the broadness of its vision and the height of its dreams." — Herb Caen

Thus spoke Herb Caen, the chronicler of San Francisco’s soul, whose words danced between the streets of the ordinary and the skies of imagination. In this saying, he teaches a truth that reaches far beyond the city — a truth about civilization itself, and even about the spirit of humanity. For a city is not merely stone and steel, nor roads and boundaries. Its greatness cannot be measured in miles or monuments, but in vision, in dreams, in the living fire of those who dwell within it. The glory of a city — and indeed, of a people — lies not in what it owns, but in what it aspires to become.

Caen spoke from the heart of San Francisco, a city born from gold rush dust and ocean fog, built by dreamers who dared to stand at the edge of the continent and imagine a bridge to the horizon. He knew that cities, like men, are living beings: they grow, they breathe, they dream. Their towers may pierce the sky, but it is the spirit within — the creative will, the courage to change, the compassion to include — that defines their true height. A city with narrow hearts, no matter how grand its buildings, is small. But a city with open minds and daring dreams becomes immortal.

When Caen speaks of the broadness of vision, he means the wisdom to see beyond the present — to look not merely at what is, but at what might be. Vision is the architect of destiny. It builds not with bricks, but with ideas; it raises not walls, but futures. The leaders, artists, and citizens who dream beyond their time breathe life into the stone around them. Consider the Athens of Pericles, where a handful of thinkers transformed a humble polis into the cradle of philosophy, art, and democracy. Their city was not large in size, but vast in thought. Their vision still shapes the world today, though their temples lie in ruin.

Likewise, the dreams of Florence during the Renaissance were the dreams of beauty and rebirth. In narrow streets, under simple roofs, men like Leonardo da Vinci, Michelangelo, and Brunelleschi redefined art, science, and architecture. The city was small in measure, yet immense in spirit — its dreams stretched farther than its walls, reaching into centuries yet unborn. Florence’s greatness was not its length and width, but its height of imagination, its devotion to human potential. Thus, we see the living truth of Caen’s words: that the measure of a city, like the measure of a soul, lies in how far it dares to dream.

But Caen’s wisdom does not belong only to cities; it belongs to every human heart. For each of us carries within us a kind of city — a structure of memory, experience, and hope. We too are built of foundations and walls, of habits and histories. And like cities, we may choose to live narrowly, content with the boundaries we have known, or to expand with courage — to dream higher, to see farther, to build the unseen into being. The broadness of vision and height of dreams are not reserved for the mighty; they belong to all who dare to imagine.

Yet Caen’s message also warns us: the destruction of a city begins not with the fall of its buildings, but with the shrinking of its spirit. When vision dims, when greed replaces purpose and cynicism replaces hope, the city — or the soul — decays, no matter how polished its surface. To keep a city alive is to keep its dreams alive, to nurture artists and thinkers, builders and believers, those who look at the horizon and see promise instead of limitation. For as long as there are dreamers, the city remains young.

So, my child of earth and sky, take this lesson as your own: do not measure your life by its length and width, but by the breadth of your vision and the height of your dreams. Build not only walls, but wonders; seek not only comfort, but creation. Whether your city is made of stone or of spirit, let it rise from the strength of your ideals. Dream not for yourself alone, but for those who will come after you, that they may walk in the light of your vision as you have walked in the light of others. For the city of man — and the city of the soul — will endure not through its size, but through its courage to dream beyond measure.