Nai

“The world was made of mysteries, and I was only another riddle among the millions. I did not answer him, and though he pretended frustration, I began to see that it pleased him in some strange way. A door that did not open at his knock was a novelty in its own right, and a kind of relief as well. All the world confessed to him. He confessed to me.”
― Madeline Miller, Circe

“There is a third form of possession or madness, of which the Muses are the source. This seizes a tender, virgin soul and stimulates it to rapt passionate expression, especially in lyric poetry, glorifying the countless mighty deeds of ancient times for the instruction of posterity. But if any man comes to the gates of poetry without the madness of the Muses, persuaded that skill alone will make him a good poet, then shall he and his works of sanity with him be brought to nought by the poetry of madness, and behold, their place is nowhere to be found.”
― Plato, Phaedrus

“As you entered the room
stirring air with suppleness of walk,
waking up the stillness with jingles of cymbals,
making curtains dance to the sound of bangles:
aroma wafted into air from canvas and copybooks,
my paintbrush grew restless,
and pen became enraptured;
my eyes, and hands. and this and that
became electrified.”
― Suman Pokhrel

“she is a poem
in herself...”
― Avijeet Das