large/6923/diary_pilgrimage_1112_librivox_64kb_mp3/diaryofapilgrimage_06_jerome_64kb_39
large/6923/diary_pilgrimage_1112_librivox_64kb_mp3/diaryofapilgrimage_06_jerome_64kb
English
6923
Silence is to the Soul what his Mother Earth was to Briareus. From contact with it we rise healed of our hurts and strengthened for the fight. SILENCE IS TO THE SOUL WHAT IS MOTHER EARTH WAS TO BRIARY US FROM CONTACT WITH IT WE RISE HEALED OF OUR HURTS AND STRENGTHEN FOR THE FIGHT
sks me, indignantly, what height I should say they are, then. I examine them critically for a few minutes, and then give it as my opinion that they do not exceed 510 feet at the very outside. B. seems annoyed with me, and we enter the church in silence. There is little to be said about a cathedral. Except to the professional sightseer, one is very much like another. Their beauty to me lies, not in the paintings and sculpture they give houseroom to, nor in the bones and bric-a-brac piled up in their cellars, but in themselves--their echoing vastness, their deep silence. Above the little homes of men, above the noisy teeming streets, they rise like some soft strain of perfect music, cleaving its way amid the jangle of discordant notes. Here, where the voices of the world sound faint; here, where the city's glamour comes not in, it is good to rest for a while--if only the pestering guides would leave one alone--and think. There is much help in Silence. From its touch we gain renewed life. EWSPAPER NEXT B ASKS ME INDIGNANTLY WHAT HEIGHT I SHOULD SAY THEY ARE THEN I EXAMINE THEM CRITICALLY FOR A FEW MINUTES AND THEN GIVE IT AS MY OPINION THAT THEY DO NOT EXCEED FIVE HUNDRED TEN FEET AT THE VERY OUTSIDE B SEEMS ANNOYED WITH ME AND WE ENTER THE CHURCH IN SILENCE THERE IS LITTLE TO BE SAID ABOUT A CATHEDRAL EXCEPT AT THE PROFESSIONAL SIGHTSEER ONE IS VERY MUCH LIKE ANOTHER THEIR BEAUTY TO ME LIES NOT IN THE PAINTINGS AND SCULPTURE THEY GIVE HOUSE ROOM TO NOR IN THE BONES AND BRIC A BRAC PILED UP IN THEIR CELLARS BUT IN THEMSELVES THEIR ECHOING VASTNESS THEIR DEEP SILENCE ABOVE THE LITTLE HOMES OF MEN ABOVE THE NOISY TEEMING STREETS THEY RISE LIKE SOME SOFT STRAIN OF PERFECT MUSIC CLEAVING ITS WAY AMID THE JANGLE OF DISCORDANT NOTES HERE WHERE THE VOICES OF THE WORLD SOUND FAINT HERE WHERE THE CITY'S GLAMOUR COMES NOT IN IT IS GOOD TO REST FOR A WHILE IF ONLY THE PESTERING GUIDES WOULD LEAVE ONE ALONE AND THINK THERE IS MUCH HELP IN SILENCE FROM ITS TOUCH WE GAIN RENEWED LIFE
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