When he bit that bud of her lower lip, she started, shook a finger, arched her brow, and hissed, "Leave me alone, you fool," her eyes narrowing into slits. Whoever kisses such a haughty woman wins the drink of immortality. Those idiot gods churned the ocean for nothing.
Amaru (c. seventh century A.D.), Kashmirian king, compiler, author of some of the poems in the anthology which bears his name. translated from the Amaruataka by Martha Ann Selby, vs. 36, Motilal Banarsidass (1983).
A cultural note: In one very popular Hindu creation myth, the gods and demons churn an ocean of milk. One of the products of this cosmic churning is an elixir which grants immortality to whomever drinks it.