they convey nothing, but only suggest. Like all signs, they
are intelligible to none but the initiated. One man, having a certain
mental experience, hoists, as it were, a signal, like ships at sea,
whereby he would make suggestion of it to another; and if in the mental
experience of that other be somewhat akin to this, which, by virtue of
that kindred, can interpret its symbol, then only, and to the extent of
such interpretation, does communication occur. But the mental experience
itself, the thought itself, does not pass; it only makes the sign.

If, for example, I utter the word _God_, it conveys nothing out of my
mind into the mind of you, the reader; it simply appeals to your
conception of divinity. If I attempt to explain, then every word of the
explanation must be subject to the same conditions; not one syllable of
it can do more than merely appeal to somewhat already in your mind. For
instance, suppose I say, _God is love_; what then is done? The appeal is
shifted to another sign; that is all. What my own soul, fed from the
vital resources and incited by the vital relationships of my life, has
learned of love, that my thought may connect with the word; but of all
this nothing passes when it is uttered; and the sound, arriving at your
ear, can do no more than invite you to summon and bring before the eye
of your consciousness that which your own soul, out of its divine depths
and through the instruction of vital relationship, has learned and has
privily whispered to you of this sacred mystery, love. Just so much as
each one, in the inviolable solitudes of his own consciousness, has
learned to connect with this, or with any great word, just that, and
never a grain more, it can summon. And if endeavor be made to explain
any such by others, the explanation can come no nearer; it can only send
words to your ear, each of which performs its utmost office by inviting
you to call up and bring before your cognizance this or that portion of
your mental experience. But always what answers the call is your mental
experience, no less yours, no less wedded to your life, than the blood
in your arteries; it cannot be that of any other.

And the same is true, or nearly the same, respecting the most obvious
outside matters. Suppose one to make merely this statement, _I see a
house_. Now, if the person addressed has ever had experience of the act
of vision, if he has ever seen anything, he will know what _see_ means;
otherwise not.