Halcyone, my dear, you and I are the inheritance of too much culture.

When I see her I want to cry with Epicurus: 'Above all, steer clear of Culture!'" And then he branched from this subject and plunged into a learned dissertation upon the worship of Dionysus, and how it had cropped up again and again with wild fervor among the ancient worlds whose senses and brains were wearied with the state religions, and he concluded by analogy that this wild longing to return to youth's follies and mad ecstasies, to get free from restraints, to seek communion with the spiritual beyond in some exaltation of the emotions--in short, to get back to nature--was an instinct in all human beings and all nations, when their zeniths of art and cultivation had come.
And Halcyone, who had heard it all before and knew the subject to her finger tips, wandered dreamily into a shadowland where she felt she was of these people--those far back worshipers--and this was her winter when Dionysus was dead, but would live again when the spring came and the flowers..