Quotes About Mystery

From the open French windows Sylvie watched Maurice erecting a makeshift tennis net, which mostly seemed to involve whacking everything in sight with a mallet. Small boys were a mystery to Sylvie. The satisfaction they gained from throwing sticks or stones for hours on end, the obsessive collection of inanimate objects, the brutal destruction of the fragile world around them, all seemed at odds with the men they were supposed to become.

Did God get out of bed one morning and draw back the curtains (Reggie's imaginary God led a very domesticated life) and think, 'A drowning in a hotel swimming pool, I fancy. We haven't had that one in a while.

Do you keep time in the same place that you save it? If so why is it always so difficult to find? It must be in a very safe place.

The plot thickens," he said, and wished he hadn't said that because it sounded like something from a bad detective novel. "I think we have a suspect." That didn't sound much better. "My house has just exploded, by the way." At least that was novel.

Ladies who lurch.

Amelia had no secrets, Amelia knew nothing. When she grew up she planned to know everything and to keep it all a secret.

A lone fisherman up early looking for sea trout found the first body.

She was real and she was dead. And she was out there somewhere.

Ghosts were created when the first man awoke in the night.

I am talking about the general psychological health of the species, man. He needs the existence of mysteries. Not their solution.

Of calling shapes, and beck'ning shadows dire, And airy tongues that syllable men's names.

God is a dark night to man in this life.

Thou hidden love of God, whose height, Whose depth unfathomed no man knows, I see from far thy beauteous light, Only I sigh for thy repose.

Animal life, sombre mystery. All nature protests against the barbarity of man, who misapprehends, who humiliates, who tortures his inferior brethren.

Our dream dashes itself against the great mystery like a wasp against a window pane. Less merciful than man, God never opens the window.

There's always a side of a woman that likes a man from the other side of the tracks

He was either a man of about a hundred and fifty who was rather young for his years, or a man of about a hundred and ten who had been aged by trouble.

When, in the third book, we do learn the identity of the Blue Rose murderer, the information comes in a muted, nearly off-hand manner, and the man has died long before.

Faith and love are apt to be spasmodic in the best minds: Men live on the brink of mysteries and harmonies into which yet they never enter, and with their hand on the doorlatch they die outside.

For pilots sometimes see behind the curtain, behind the veil of gossamer velvet, and find the truth behind man, the force behind a universe.

Men are intrigued by anything they do not completly control.

The greatest of all mysteries is the man himself.

God never does anything wrong. He knows what is best for me. No man can understand God, or know why He deals with us as He does.

But there are things that happen between a man and a woman in the dark -- that sort of make everything else seem -- unimportant.