Quotes About Mystery

The Vine of Life grows a single melon. The color of the heart is unknown until the rind is split.

To move the rocks might yield magical treasures, or, more likely, some unimaginable woe.

My talismans are not obviously useless.

My clever baton holds your unnatural sorcery in abeyance.

The world now lacks a Sir Pom-pom, with all his funny ways! I wonder where he is now? Or is he anywhere at all? Can someone be nowhere?

Somewhere there is mystery. It impels one to theosophy: to the worship of a space-god, or a god of light." "Theory dissolves the mystery, though it lays bare a cryptic new stratum. Quite likely there is an endless set of these layers, mystery below mystery.

There's an elemental mystery to the universe: the why of things. Everyone is free to speculate. I speak not for atheism, but against compulsory theism, or compulsory dogma of any kind.

Attel Malagate (the Woe) Howard Alan Treesong Viole Falushe Kokor Hekkus (the Killing Machine) Lens Larque

I think we've met?" His voice was soft, sardonic. "Your name evades me," said Gersen politely. "I am Suthiro, Sivij Suthiro.

The archveult Xexamedes, digging gentian roots in Were Wood, became warm with exertion. He doffed his cloak and returned to work, but the glint of blue scales was noticed by Herark the Harbinger and the diabolist Shrue. Approaching by stealth they leapt forth to confront the creature. Then, flinging a pair of nooses about the supple neck, they held him where he could do no mischief.

For the first time Gersen saw indigenous fauna of Moudervelt: a band of lizard-foxes, with gray-green pangolin scales and a single optic orb. They reared high to watch Gersen pass by; when he slowed the car they advanced with dancing sidelong steps, for purposes Gersen could not guess. He drove on, leaving the troop staring after him.

might have been the people which left ruins on the Fomalhaut planets, or the Hexadelts, or whoever carved Monument Cliff on Xi Puppis X.

I am Chun the Unavoidable. Tonight, O Lith, tonight it is two long bright threads for you.

She lived in an environment that few people in the world have ever been able to survive. What knowledge did she have that made that possible? How did she survive for so long in a place that would kill most of us within days? Soon after my visit the old woman died, and now we may never know.

Once, Colin Forbes went on the trail of a shadowy character who had trussed, robbed, then killed a Vine Street tailor, leaving behind only the heelprint of a cowboy's boot on his victim's forehead. It took him two years, but he traced the boot to Texas and then found the murderer in an Army camp right in California.

I am infinitely saddened to find myself suddenly surrounded in the west by a sense of terrible loss of nerve, a retreat from knowledge into–into what? Into Zen Buddhism; into falsely profound questions … into extrasensory perception and mystery. They do not lie along the line of what we are now able to know if we devote ourselves to it: an understanding of man himself.

It's the same questions we ask of our existence, and the answer is always the same. The mystery lies not in the question nor the answer, but in the asking and answering themselves, over and over again, and the end is engendered in the beginning.

We pay for sins we do not remember, and seek to do a will we can scarce fathom. That is what it is, to be a god's chosen.

The gods use their chosen hard, but reveal little to them.

You should not be here, the forest whispered behind us. You do not belong here.

Betimes I have heard people bewail the fact that our destinies are shrouded in mystery; I think, though, that it is a blessing of sorts. Surely if we knew what bitterness fate held in store, we would shrink back in fear and let the cup of life pass us by untasted.

He is searching for an answer for which no question exists.

Shambloth the Great Protector, whom you know as the Inchoate Terror

It is the same questions we ask of our existence, and the answer is always the same. The mystery lies not in the question nor the answer, but in the asking and answering themselves, over and over again, and the end is engendered in the beginning. That much, I had learned.