Sainte-Chapelle   Just as a master glassmaker must rest the iron blowpipe against his cheek between blows, so as not to suck the flame into his mouth when he draws breath,   so must you let the sun pierce your window and rest against your face. It also is a furnace, one of many in the sky’s workshop,   yet the earth lets sunrays rest along its cheek, drawing just what it needs to paint in light. I tell you this after visiting La Sainte-Chapelle,   as you lie on your less painful lung, only half-listening, concentrating on each…