Light of Light
by Anthony Esolen
In these essays I have been like someone who wanders about a great mansion that has fallen into disrepair because for a long time no one has taken care of it, though many a wise and blessed squatter has come to visit once in a while and has saved from rain and rust, from moth and mouse and worm, some precious vessel or silken robe, some work of piety and beauty that past generations of Christians have bequeathed to our ungrateful, inattentive, and insipid age.
Often enough I myself do not know what I am looking at. A few weeks ago, I lectured on the imagination to a large . . .