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Quote by Derek Ailes

“I looked at Vicki. My beautiful Vicki. My dream. My love. My life.”

Quote by Derek Ailes

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“Dear L-- Fell asleep in a park. Started to rain. Woke up with my hat full of leaves. You are all I see when I open or close a book. Yours, M”

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“Combine two words, Myth and History. What do you get? Mystery.”

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“Mythology does not interest me. Nor does history. But the possible overlap between history and mythology excites me immensely.”

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“Mythology is like a game of Chinese Whispers. What goes in at one end of the human circle is rarely what emerges at the other end.”

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“In Kolkata is a temple where the deity worshipped is Amitabh Bachchan. The daily aarti is performed to the chanting of the Amitabh Chaleesa. And people still ask, “Could our mythological heroes be based on actual people who once lived?”

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Author:Ashwin Sanghi

“She watches him for hours. She wants to be the sheets that cover his toes. She wants to be the ceiling separating him from the sky: above him, the first thing he sees before and after dreams. She wants to be the open window letting in the light for him.”

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Book:Touch

Source: Touch

“The architecture of the Minotaur’s heart is ancient. Rough hewn and many chambered, his heart is a plodding laborious thing, built for churning through the millennia. But the blood it pumps—the blood it has pumped for five thousand years, the blood it will pump for the rest of his life—is nearly human blood. It carries with it, through his monster’s veins, the weighty, necessary, terrible stuff of human existence: fear, wonder, hope, wickedness, love. But in the Minotaur’s world it is far easier to kill and devour seven virgins year after year, their rattling bones rising at his feet like a sea of cracked ice, than to accept tenderness and return it.”

Blood Mythology Monsters Tenderness Veins Hearts Minotaurs

Book:The Minotaur Takes a Cigarette Break

Source: The Minotaur Takes a Cigarette Break

“He holds out a trembling hand and traces the shape of her arm, descending to her elbow. “You’re like mist,” he says. “You really don’t feel this?” Love shakes her head. “No.” But that’s not entirely true, because this illusion of a touch has turned her into a current, this human has reached down to her bones. Then his fingers curl right through her hip, and he lowers his voice. “How ’bout that?”

Mythology Touch Ya Fantasy Ya Romance Ya Fiction Mature Ya

Book:Touch

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“Little did they suspect that the years would end by wearing away the disharmony. Little did they suspect that La Mancha and Montiel and the knight's frail figure would be, for the future, no less poetic than Sinbad's haunts or Ariosto's vast geographies. For myth is at the beginning of literature, and also at its end.”

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Author:Jorge Luis Borges

“Think of this – that the writer wrote alone, and the reader read alone, and they were alone with each other. True, the writer may have been alone also with Spenser's golden apples in the Faerie Queene, Proserpina's garden, glistening bright among the place's ashes and cinders, may have seen in his mind's eye, apple of his eye, the golden fruit of the Primavera, may have seen Paradise Lost, in the garden where Eve recalled Pomona and Proserpina. He was alone when he wrote and he was not alone then, all these voices sang, the same words, golden apples, different words in different places, an Irish castle, un unseen cottage, elastic-walled and grey round blind eyes.”

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Author:A.S. Byatt