Holy the lone juggernaut! Holy the vast lamb of the / middle class! Holy the crazy shepherds of rebell- / ion! Who digs Los Angeles IS Los Angeles! / Holy New York Holy San Francisco Holy Peoria & / Seattle Holy Paris Holy Tangiers Holy Moscow / Holy Istanbul! / Holy time in eternity holy eternity in time holy the / clocks in space holy the fourth dimension holy / the fifth International holy the Angel in Moloch! / Holy the sea holy the desert holy the railroad holy the / locomotive holy the visions holy the hallucina- /. tions holy the miracles holy the eyeball holy the abyss!
See, I'd just grabbed Thomas Merton's The Seven Story Mountain from my bookcase, opened it, felt the spine crack, saw the book break in two. I've had it for maybe forty years. I checked out the breaking point; read; thought of the Ginsberg; of my frequent panic to be sure everyone understands. We are all holy, loved, equal. (Except Limbaugh, Palin, Stalin and Cheney & co.) (Sorry but I have limits.) Merton is a saint. Ginsberg is a saint. You are a saint. Sarai is a saint.
It is a wonderful experience to discover a new saint. For God is greatly magnified and marvelous in each one of His saints: differently in each individual one. There are no two saints alike: but all of them are like God, like Him in a different and special way. In fact, if Adam had never fallen, the whole human race would have been a series of magnificently different and splendid images of God, each one of all the millions of men showing forth His glories and perfections in an astonishing new way, and each one shining with his own particular sanctity, a sanctity destined for him from all eternity in the most complete and unimaginable supernatural perfection of his human personalityThe fall is merely a way to explain our brokenness, and that's that.
Thomas Merton, from the Doubleday Image paperback of The Seven Story Mountain. p. 427.