“As I began to look out of my eyes once more I became aware that Jane was sitting silently beside me. It seemed so terribly important that she should be there, and that we should be sharing that sacred interval together. I fancied that we were fellow priestesses in ancient Egypt, that I had been lying in a stone sarcophagus in a death-like trance, and that she was my hierophant who would usher me back to the world of the living. Images of colonnaded temples, sphinxes, pyramids, and winged figures floated behind her. I loved her enormously and felt that we had been through something like this before in one of the mystery schools of legendary eras. Surely we would remain soul sisters forever. “You are my initiator,” I whispered, certain that she would understand. For some reason I also wanted to convey to her that I thought ketamine was a gift from Venus. Not just that it was a Venusian substance in the astrological sense but that I felt as though it had actually been brought, or manifested, from another, higher planet as a gift of grace to help relieve the present human plight. But the idea was too complex and I gave up trying to speak of it.”

— Marcia Moore, from her book Journeys into the Bright World, after a 50 mg dose, 1976.

“My hand reached for the mirror and then became confused because it seemed as though I was already holding it. But it was his larger darker arm that was outstretched. A bantering dialog therein ensued about who was holding the mirror. I insisted that it was my hand and he replied no it was his. A part of me realized that it was indeed Howard’s hand that was supporting the mirror but it seemed so much like mine that I couldn’t be sure.”

— Marcia Moore, from her book Journeys into the Bright World, after a 65 mg dose, 1977.

“In general my body seemed better balanced as though concentric circles of light were radiating from the heart. Nerves like violin strings could be more easily tensed to the point where neither too tight nor too relaxed they could sound a clearer note. On the negative side however I felt as though I needed more protection and certainly more sleep. In moments of fatigue there was a part of me that felt fragile blue-veined and shattery like the finest of fine white porcelain figurines.”

— Marcia Moore, from her book Journeys into the Bright World, after a 25 mg dose, 1977.

“One evening early in January I took off into the bright world from our waterbed while Howard watched a medical documentary on TV although I had no cognizance of the program itself in my inner-dimensional sphere I seemed to be attending a telepathically conducted medical school in which it was being demonstrated that all disease stems from just one basic source - the disharmony between inner and outer realms. There were enormous depths of profundity in the lesson being taught but as always the sublimed significance of the concept deflated to a simple cliche on being reduced to words.”

— Marcia Moore, from her book Journeys into the Bright World, 1978.

“During a two week mid-January vacation in Southern California I was bemoaning our inundation by torrential rains just when we so badly needed sunshine. In compensation Howard and I decided to take a twenty-five milligram flight into the Bright World….Rising on up to a Hollywood archetype Howard and I emerged together into a movieland set where the sun was still shining. There we became bit players in a brief but exhilarating “Beautiful body on the beach” episode starring a brawny twenty-year-old Sunny and sixteen-year-old Marcia with “long, languorous, lustrous limbs” tossing a ball and sporting in the sand.”

— Marcia Moore, from her book Journeys into the Bright World, after a 25 mg dose, 1978.

“Another mini-trip of fifteen milligrams was taken when I had been on a partial fast for the sake of removing a few pounds. Even though not eating I sat at the dinner table with Howard. The dose seemed exactly right for the mood and setting. Throughout the meal I felt brilliant, beautiful, rich, relaxed, and sparkling. Whereas a predinner cocktail would have dulled the senses this easeful upliftment intensified this every detail of that memorable meal. Yellow corn, green lima beans and red peppers in a casseroled sparkled mysteriously in the candlelight. The salad of green and purple cabbage and orange carrots ringed with scalloped cucumbers on a bed of lettuce could have been nature’s crown jewels. I had no more desire to consume these beauteous vegetable than to much on emeralds and rubies yet my soul was sumptuously fed.”

— Marcia Moore, from her book Journeys into the Bright World, after a 15 mg dose, 1978.