Manche zum Lesen geschriebene Worte müssen jedoch zwingend gehört werden. Wie etwa der Ausschnitt aus Walter Kaufmanns Übersetzung von Nietzsches »Die Geburt der Tragödie aus dem Geiste der Musik«, gesprochen von Geoffrey Palmer zu Beginn von Frankie Goes to Hollywoods »Welcome to the Pleasuredome« im »Fruitness Mix«. Wegen der Melodie in Stimme und in Melodie.

Abgesehen davon sind die Worte aber auch schon in der Selbstleseversion zum Niederknien -- awestruck:

Under the charm of the Dionysian not only is the union between man and man reaffirmed, but nature, which has become alienated, hostile or subjugated, celebrates once more her reconciliation with her lost son: man. Freely earth proffers her gifts, and peacefully the beasts of prey of the rocks and desert approach.

The chariot of Dionysus is covered with flowers and garlands; panthers and tigers walk under its yoke. Transform Beethoven's »Hymn to Joy« into a painting. Let your imagination conceive the multitudes bowing to the dust -- awestruck. Then you will approach the Dionysian.

Now the slave is a free man; now all the rigid, hostile barriers that necessity, caprice, or "impudent convention" have fixed between man and man are broken. Now with the gospel of universal harmony, each one feels himself not only united, reconciled and fused with his neighbor, but as one with him, as if the veil of maya had been torn aside and were now merely fluttering in tatters before the mysterious primordial unity.

In song and in dance man expresses himself as a member of a higher community. He has forgotten how to walk and speak and is on the way toward flying into the air, dancing. His very gestures express enchantment. Just as the animals now talk and the earth yields milk and honey, supernatural sounds emanate from him too. He feels himself a god, he himself now walks about enchanted in ecstasy like the gods he saw walking in his dreams. He is no longer an artist, he has become a work of art.

In the paroxysms of intoxication the artistic power of all nature reveals itself to the highest gratification of the primordial unity. The noblest clay, the most costly marble -- man -- is here kneaded and cut, and to the sound of the chisel strokes of the Dionysian world artist, rings out the cry of the Eleusinian Mysteries: »Do you prostrate yourselves, millions? Do you sense your maker, world?«