| Abstrakt: |
Let me share a secret. For a long time, I have cherished a fantasy about the so-called Dark Ages, when monks in cold abbeys on the edges of the world quietly and methodically copied out manuscripts, illuminating them with miraculous visions, tiny dots of color and life and even humor in a hostile, bleak, dangerous world. I have not a shred of religion in me, but I find enormous satisfaction reading the old lives of the saints, visiting forlorn relics of the monastic age and staring at the quiet, contemplative art of early Christianity. [ABSTRACT FROM PUBLISHER] |
