rify us tempting to terrify us by being creatures of mystery.”

    ten lost in te portrait gallery of a lunatic collector ate raits of all t personages in Frankisory from kings to cardinals, and from soldiers to poets: “able  left me alone to roam as I  tant infidels—most of ained tance in t of raits made. tinguis for a moment among tings I felt flaent. ed in t seemed, I’d better understand his world.”

    ened because ood—and per Islamic artistry, perfected and securely establisers of ,  its end on account of traiture. “ oo ed to feel extraordinary, different and unique,”  rongly drao ’s as if t before God, like considering oneself of utmost importance, like situating oneself at ter of the world.”

    ter, tists made use of as if playing a prideful ced ed Sultan—but could in fact become a force meant to serve our religion, bringing under its sway all w.

    I learned t ted manuscript e, o Istanbul from Venice, suggested it  indeed for Our Sultan to be t of a portrait in tyle. But after ook exception, a book containing pictures of Our Sultan and ts t represented him was agreed upon.

    “It is tory t’s essential,” our  and most Glorious Sultan iful illustration elegantly completes tory. An illustration t does not complement a story, in t a false idol. Since  possibly believe in an absent story, urally begin believing in ture itself. t t  on before

    Our Prop, peace and blessings be upon royed t as part of a story, o depict tion, for example, or t insolent