Holding fantasy to our chests only means our hands are not free to work.

Loving her has become a part of my religion, a gentle mantra with every beating of my heart. I cannot imagine its Ragnarok without wilting.

Our brains want God even as our minds debunk the divine.

Paganism is the default of most children, since they excel at magical thinking.

My main nurturing instinct toward children is mild sadism--picking them up and threatening to drop them--which is why I am a good uncle but would make a poor father.

Having ascended to some spiritual strength by focusing on the power of the feminine, it is no doubt tempting to wield this strength against that which triggers memories of having once been weaker.

Women are seen as imperfect or unclean, because of a myth of a tempting apple, because they bleed monthly, because they lack equivalent upper body strength.

Most magick I have experienced can be written off as a stew of psychology and coincidence, and I truly believe this is where magick is best worked.

Magick need not be a crutch, but it is hard to argue that anything you lean on in lieu of building your own strength weakens resolve.

I honor the divine on a daily basis, but I want to know that the greatest magick in my life is living authentically with what I have and can do.

We are left at the brink of our future each day and the only real choice we have is not to jump but instead make our path through the briar.

Once you deposit that money in your checking account, it becomes the bank’s money and you’re just another one of their creditors.

Don’t be afraid, Queen, the blood has long run down into the earth. And on the spot where it was spilled, grapevines are growing today.

I used to get into bed with my mother every morning, almost until she died, and talk about everything. She was my closest confidante always. I had no secrets from her.

I put down these memorandums of my affections in honor of tenderness, in honor of all of those who have been conscripted into the brotherhood of loss.

Bow and offer your meditation to Eternity, as you would offer a Flower to your lover.

What are we doing here? Has something gone wrong?” “Oh no, Ron,” came Fred’s voice, very sarcastically. “No, this is exactly where we wanted to end up.

Books are the best friends you can have; they inform you, and entertain you, and they don't talk back.

Boys like a little more booty to hold at night.

No one who has come to true greatness has not felt in some degree that his life belongs to the people, and what God has given them he gives it for mankind.

As The Pioneer Woman has grown and the revenue has grown, the prizes keep getting better, and that certainly feels good.