O! love, what fountains of rapture, what springs of intoxicating bliss well up from the depths of our being, till the foaming wine jets forth hissing through the flames of our passion — and splashes into immensity, begetting a million suns.
— Aleister Crowley, The White Watch-Tower
I believe in the practice and philosophy of what we have agreed to call magic, in what I must call the evocation of spirits, though I do not know what they are, in the power of creating magical illusions, in the visions of truth in the depths of the mind when the eyes are closed
— William Butler Yeats, Magic
