This is night, of what stars harry towards the moon, farther removed from men, from every million midnight's attending even then hungry noon. Faces lift through lunar masks and speak in dreams, speak canyon echoes, echo sister of faith. "We are eternal triple woman, origin of myth darkly branding maiden, mother, crone" and she shall find me, four-cornered, nearest the moon.
- Nicole Hanna
"God may be in the details, but the goddess is in the questions. Once we begin to ask them, there's no turning back."
The Willow spoke of her to the Great White Owl. It called her "Hag! Hag of the Dead!" and from the moon she came, from the Lovely One she came, from the crossroads she came. Low the smoke rolled as it followed, and to the Maiden, it asked, "Where is her headdress of stars?" and Maiden gave her these black arts. The smoke asked of the Mother, "How go the sacred power of Nature?" and Mother gave her these gifts by three, and infants were realized and mothers were milked and crone wore the dead like charms. Great White Owl spoke "Hag! Hag of the Dead!" and boldly the earth danced more kindly than the trees while the witch found magic while in moonlight should advance the voice of three: "I am the deep mysteries, which well within the hearth, and you shall call me Hecate."