Quotes About Mystery

Is there sorcery involved when you love me here, or when we first meet in a public place?

It was upon them. Who knows love? Who says he knows love? What is love, tell me. An old song. A child's song.

and the world's possibilities were hidden from her like the west bank of the river in an autumn fog.

How little, after all, one knew about the people one knew best

He was a mystery. Intimacy is a mystery; maybe that's what he wanted.

Here is a book of tongues. Take it. (Dark leaves invade the air.) Beware! I now know a language so beautiful and lethal My mouth bleeds when I speak it.

Rea azon gondolkozott, hogyan iszik a kefeköt?, és egyáltalán ki az és mit csinál. Csöngettek, mert éppen volt áram (…).

One should always be suspicious of a woman who tells you that her past was burnt in the flames of a schoolhouse in Peshawar.

It is curious how men who are good friends, close friends, true friends, who may have been on the most intimate and familiar terms over any number of years, can nevertheless know next to nothing of one another's love-lives.

There are so many kinds of reality, and so many secret openings in the walls we think are mute.

Night, the mother of fear and mystery, was coming upon me.

We must not allow the clock and the calendar to blind us to the fact that each moment of life is a miracle and mystery.

Let some things remain mysterious.

Feynman—mystifyingly brilliant at calculating, strangely ignorant of the literature, passionate about physics, reckless about proof—had for once overestimated his ability to charm and persuade these great physicists.

The microscopic pieces were perfectly clear; the macroscopic behavior remained a mystery. The tradition of looking at systems locally—isolating the mechanisms and then adding them together—was beginning to break down.

To be haunted is to glimpse a truth that might best be hidden.

One of the goals of alchemists was to concoct the "elixir," a panacea that would heal all ills and prolong all lives. This miraculous substance had many names, the most inclusive being lapis philosophorum, philosophers' stone.

I see," answered Chips, without seeing at all. He could not really understand why a man born in Brooklyn should have a sentimental desire to visit Brookfield: he could not understand why letters should be counted instead of read; he could not understand why a man who wished to avoid publicity should travel around with the kind of luggage that would rivet the attention of every fellow-traveller and railway porter. These things were mysteries.

There was also a bottom shelf piled up with cheap editions of detective novels. Chips enjoyed these. Sometimes he took down Vergil or Xenophon and read for a few moments, but he was soon back again with Doctor Thorndyke or Inspector French.

Life is a journey! "It's the unknown that we don't understand.

Mysteries exists in every moment. For some, a tiny moment is their entire lifetime!

Life is unpredictable. You never know what will happen next. So what level of insanity am I going to have today?

Today simply be you." "Be mysterious." Do something you love. It is really that simple. And that hard.

Some day you will be old enough to know. Anything can happen, anything can be.