He rolled a ball for souls, excited like kittens, to catch it, and tumbling into the dozens of vacant pits.

So it seemed to Woodseer, whose perceptions were discoloured by hereditary antagonism.

Had he preserved his philosopher's eye, he would have known that the Hoofed One is too wily to show himself, owing to his ugliness.

The Black Goddess and no other presides at her own game.

She (it is good for us to know it) is the Power who challenges the individual, it is he who spreads the net for the mass.
She liquefies the brain of man; he petrifies or ossifies the heart.