Anne Porter

There is a church in Umbria, Little Portion, already old eight hundred years ago. Abandoned and in disrepair, it was called St. Mary of the Angels, for it was known to be the haunt of angels. Often at night the country people could hear angels singing there.

What was it like, to listen to the angels, to hear those mountain-fresh, those simple voices, poured out of the bare stones of Little Portion in hymns of joy? No one has told us. Perhaps its needs another language that we have still to learn, an altogether different language.