A meditation
I came across this in a novel I'm reading: Night Train to Lisbon, by Pascal Mercier. Out of context, with the author clearly having a different style of architecture in mind, it is nevertheless an attractive and thought provoking passage:
I would not like to live in a world without Cathedrals. I need their beauty and their grandeur. I need them against the vulgarity of the world. I want to look up at the illuminated church windows and let myself be blinded by the unearthly colours. I need their lustre. I need it against the dirty colours of the uniforms. I want to let myself be wrapped in the austere coolness of the churches. I need their imperious silence. I need it against the witless bellowing of the barracks yard and the witty chatter of the yes-men. I want to hear the rustling of the organ, this deluge of etherial tones. I need it against the shrill farce of marches. I love praying people. I need the sight of them. I need it against the malicious poison of the superficial and the thoughtless. I want to read the powerful words of the Bible. I need the unreal force of their poetry. I need it against the delapidation of the language and the dictatorship of slogans. A world without these things would be a world I would not like to live in.