"The Wild Woman … lives in the green poking
through snow, she lives in the rustling stalks
of dying autumn corn, she lives where the
dead come to be kissed and the living send
their prayers. She lives in the place where
language is made. She lives on poetry and
percussion and singing … She is the moment
just before inspiration bursts upon us."
Clarissa Pinkola Estes, Women Who Run With
the Wolves
