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“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

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

“Nay, in the very matter of our world, the traces of the celestial commonwealth are not quite lost. Memory passes through the womb and hovers in the air. The Muse is a real thing. A faint breath, as Virgil says, reaches even the late generations. Our mythology is based on a solider reality than we dream: but it is also at an almost infinite distance from that base. And when they told him this, Ransom at last understood why mythology was what it was - gleams of celestial strength and beauty falling on a jungle of filth and imbecility.”
― C.S. Lewis, Perelandra

“What if you lose your muse?
Your mind will keep searching for an unknown palm, an empty core of clustered starry moisture, a broken harmony of a long lost song.
Your heart will trample across moments, scattered here and there hoping to smile through a blank verse, an unmade sculpture, a void cosmos walking through a violet sky.
And your soul?
That, a sparkle of a crimson sun will dance along the glitter of a fragmentary dream, and in a love that clutches you in transience of an eternity, hold your breath in a paradise of a vibrant vision, and there you will find your muse again, once again.
So what if you lose your muse?”
― Debatrayee Banerjee