A woman may crave to be near water, or belly down, face in the earth. She might drive into the wind. She may have to plant something. She may need nights where the stars are like face powder on a black marble floor. She may feel she will die if she doesn't dance naked in a thunderstorm, sit in perfect silence, return home ink-stained, paint-stained, tear-stained, moon stained. - Clarissa Pinkola Estes.