Sometimes I seek another word to express the word 'love'; but in this land of exile the word which begins and ends is quite incapable of rendering the vibrations of the soul: we must then adhere to the simple and only word: To Love.
Home is where the heart is not famished, the eye not starved, the Sacred not banished or desecrated. The Sacred cannot be caught in formulas. It cannot be analyzed, not even in terms of ecology, as beauty cannot be caught in the semantics of esthetics. Fingers pointing toward the Transcendent need no vocabulary, for they do not preach. Beyond the dialects of all religions they witness to a religious attitude toward life itself.
~ from FINGERS POINTING TOWARD THE SACRED by Frederick Franck
