And all the while vine leaves were sprouting up on the bed and there was a sound of drums beating in the darkness.
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Category: mythology
Two Years Eight Months and Twenty-Eight Nights, By Salman Rushdie
Do you understand why you are still alive? she asked Jimmy Kapoor, as, blushing, he pulled a bed sheet around himself. ‘Yes’ he replied, his eyes filled with wonder. ‘Because you saved my life’. That is so, she conceded, inclining her head. But you would have been dead before I reached you, crushed to bits in the great Urn, if it wasn’t for the other reason.
Metamorpheses, by Ovid
His look still grim with glaring eyes, and every kind of way
His cruel heart in outward shape doth well itself bewray.
Taliesin, from The Mabinogion
And she went forth after him, running.
And he saw her, and changed himself into a hare and fled.
But she changed herself into a greyhound and turned him.
And he ran towards a river, and became a fish.
