“The song is gone; the danceis secret with the dancers in the earth,the ritual useless, and the tribal storylost in an alien tale.Only the grass stands upto mark the dancing-ring; the apple-gumsposture and mime a past corroboree,murmur a broken chant.The hunter is gone; the spearis splintered underground; the painted bodiesa dream the world breathed sleeping and forgot.The nomad feet are still.Only the rider's hearthalts at a sightless shadow, an unsaid wordthat fastens in the blood of the ancient curse,the fear as old as Cain.”

“Though I am old with wanderingThrough hollow lands and hilly lands,I will find out where she has gone,And kiss her lips and take her hands;And walk among long dappled grass,And pluck till time and times are doneThe silver apples of the moon,The golden apples of the sun.- The Song of Wandering Aengus”

“Men were doomed to repeat the sins of not only their fathers, but all their ancient forbears on back to Cain. That was the true mark upon man, scripted in his very blood.”

“We are in the dark places of the earth," said Madman. "Where all the ancient and most dangerous secrets are kept. There are Old Things down here, sleeping all around us, in the earth and in the living rock, and in the spaces between spaces. Keep your voices down. Some of these old creatures sleep but lightly, and even their dreams can have force and substance in our limited world. We have come among forgotten gods and sleeping devils, from the days before the world settled down and declared itself sane.”

“Breath of the winds; dancing flame; peace of the earth; song of the waves.”

“We dance for laughter, we dance for tears, we dance for madness, we dance for fears, we dance for hopes, we dance for screams, we are the dancers, we create the dreams.”