“Angel and Muse approach from without; the Angel sheds light and the Muse gives form (Hesiod learned of them).  Gold leaf or chiton-folds: the poet finds his models in his laurel coppice. But the Duende, on the other hand, must come to life in the nethermost recesses of the blood.”

“He who approaches the temple of the Muses without inspiration, in the belief that craftsmanship alone suffices, will remain a bungler and his presumptuous poetry will be obscured by the songs of the maniacs.”

“Let the old Muse loosen her staysOr give me a new Muse with stockings and suspendersAnd a smile like a cat,With false eyelashes and finger-nails of carmineAnd dressed by Schiaparelli, with a pill-box hat....Give me a houri but houris are too easy,Give me a nun;We'll rape the angels off the golden reredosBefore we're done.”

“Let twelve angels come into being to rule over chaos and the underworld." And look, from the cloud there appeared an angel whose face flashed with fire and whose appearance was defiled with blood. His name was Nebro, which means in translation 'rebel'; others call him Yaldabaoth.”

“And muse on nature with a poet's eye.”

“At first he didn’t recognize her. She was breathtakingly beautiful, her movements sure and graceful. Yet there was something about her face and figure that reminded him of the girl he’d fallen in love with long ago. They’d gone their separate ways, and he had always mourned her, his angel, his muse, his beloved Beatrice. Without her, his life had been lonely and small.Now his blessedness appeared.”