I am Mother Earth. I am the Creatrix. I am the High Priestess. I am the Linguistic Mystic. I am the Dakini. I am the Tantrika. The scarlet elixir that flows from my sacred temple is an ever-nourishing spring of esoteric wisdom. My ever-flowing blood is a life-giving sea. Between my legs, lies a multidimensional stargate.
I sanctify those who part the Red Sea. They shall taste the Divine; they shall be reborn. My sacred source shall inebriate them. The cycles and rhythms of Mother Nature are alive within my body. Erotic ecstasy is my essence. I am the Maiden, the Waxing Moon. I am the Mother, the Full Moon. I am the Enchantress, the Waning Moon. I am the Crone, the Dark Moon. I am the Sacred Whore. I am the Great Giver, and I am the Great Receiver. I am the Giver of Life. I am the Mother of the Universe. I am the Oracle. I am the Shekinah. I am Shakti. I am Woman.
21:23"When the immense drugged universe explodes
In a cascade of unendurable colour
And leaves us gasping naked,
This is no more than the ecstasy of chaos:
Hold fast, with both hands, to that royal love
Which alone, as we know certainly, restores
Fragmentation into true being." — Robert Graves, Poems: 1965-1968
16:36"So when the Angel of the darker Drink
At last shall find you by the river-brink,
And, offering his Cup, invite your Soul
Forth to your Lips to quaff — you shall not shrink." — Omar Khayyám, The Rubáiyát of Omar Khayyám translated by Edward FitzGerald
16:29"I hope you will go out and let stories, that is life, happen to you, and that you will work with these stories from your life—not someone else’s life—water them with your blood and tears and your laughter till they bloom, till you yourself burst into bloom. That is the work. The only work." — Clarissa Pinkola Estés, Women Who Run With the Wolves: Myths and Stories of the Wild Woman Archetype
22:16"Every year these passions and these lights, sparked in their fathers and great-sires alike, and back and back to when the Urken leap and gabble in the autumn smokes. This night is not a single time but is as many as the stars, a string of nights drawn through the ages on an awl of ritual and hung with old fires in the stead of beads." — Alan Moore, Voice of the Fire