“To sing, to scream, to dance barefoot in the woods in the dead of night, with no more awareness of mortality than an animal! These are powerful mysteries. The bellowing of bulls. Springs of honey bubbling from the ground. If we are strong enough in our souls we can rip away the veil and look that naked, terrible beauty right in the face; let God consume us, devour us, unstring our bones. Then spit us out reborn…And that, to me, is the terrible seduction of Dionysiac ritual. Hard for us to imagine. That fire of pure being.”
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—Donna Tartt, The Secret History
(via mediotutissimusibis)
