Quotes About Mystery

Men, for the most part, like to pursue women. We like not knowing if we can catch you. We feel rewarded when we do. Especially when the chase is a long one.

Man never knows what he wants; he aspires to penetrate mysteries and as soon as he has, wants to re-establish them. Ignorance irritates him and knowledge cloys.

Dear, beauteous death, the jewel of the just! Shining nowhere but in the dark; What mysteries do lie beyond thy dust, Could man outlook that mark!

Don't you just love those long rainy afternoons in New Orleans when an hour isn't just an hour - but a little piece of eternity dropped into your hands - and who knows what to do with it?

There is a transcendental dimension beyond language... It's just hard as hell to talk about!

The Clue in the Corn Maze Created by Gertrude Chandler Warner Illustrated by Robert Papp

I did not dare look back at Domenico. Sprawled catlike in the silver chair, he was watching me; I could feel his eyes resting on my bare shoulders as actual as a touch.

Domenico's smile was breathtakingly beautiful, but his devil's look blazed behind it.

How could I have let you do any of those things when I've never even seen your face? When I don't even know your name?" "That may be true," he said quietly, "but for just a moment there, I would have sworn you knew my heart.

How wonderful it is that He Whose greatness could fill a thousand worlds, and very many more, should confine Himself within so small a space, just as He was pleased to dwell within the womb of His most holy Mother!

His secrets are hidden deep; but all that he does will be best for us, without the slightest doubt.

Our intellects, no matter how sharp, can no more grasp this than they can comprehend God.

I am not going to describe her face because I want you to think of her as a bride.

As Freud noted: "A thing which has not been understood inevitably reappears; like an unlaid ghost, it cannot rest until the mystery has been resolved and the spell broken." . . . in ambivalent attachment, a mother vacillates inexplicably from being loving and tender to angry and threatening.. Faced with this unpredictable inconsistency, a child tries to appease the mother, anxious to control and monitor her shifting moods.

Gwen?" "Yes." "You know why we have to be together, don't you?" "..." "I'm your selkie.

Browsing the dim back corner Of a musty antique shop Opened an old book of poetry Angels flew out from the pages I caught the whiff of a soul The ink seemed fresh as today Was that voices whispering? The tree of the paper still grows.

I've had secrets come out of my typewriter in invisible ink.

The night sky is a miracle of infinitude.

As far as the Moon is concerned, he is always full.

There are worlds in an opal.

I find myself most drawn to: art that has arisen from a deeply personal conversation between the artist and the work at hand. It is art that walks perilously close to the Edge, that crosses the river of blood into Faerie, that flies so high it is scorched by the sun, and then returns to tell the tale to us. It is art that needed to be written, or painted, or sung, or woven, or otherwise shaped. It is art gifted by the Mystery to the maker...and then, in turn, gifted to us .

Josiah White Buffalo tied the dead man's

There is a now Word of God for you, a now revelation from the Holy Spirit, that has direct bearing on your circumstances. Praise prepares you to receive this Word, by which God will reveal "the mystery of His will, according to His good pleasure which He purposed in Himself" (Eph. 1:9).

Never trust any complicated cocktail that remainds perfectly clear until the last ingredient goes in, and then immediately clouds.