Quotes About Mystery

Here's lumbos. Where misties swaddlum, where misches lodge none, where mystries pour kind on, O sleepy! So be yet!

he met the eyes of others with unanswering eyes, for he felt that the spirit of beauty had folded him round like a mantle and that in revery at least he had been acquainted with nobility.

Sleep, where in the waste is the wisdom?

the obscure soul of the world, a darkness shining in brightness which brightness could not comprehend.

What is a ghost? Stephen said with tingling energy. One who has faded into impalpability through death, through absence, through change of manners.

Oftwhile balbulous, mithre ahead, with goodly trowel in grasp and ivoroiled overalls which he habitacularly fondseed...

The esthetic image in the dramatic form is life purified in and reprojected from the human imagination. The mystery of esthetic, like that of material creation, is accomplished. The artist, like the God of creation, remains within or behind or beyond or above his handiwork, invisible, refined out of existence, indifferent, paring his fingernails.

It made me sad to see your eyes. I cannot say why.

peered down the dark winding stairs and called out coarsely:

Ay say aye. I affirmly swear to it that it rooly and cooly boolyhooly was with my holyhagionous lips continuously poised upon the rubricated annuals of saint ulstar.

A dark horse riderless, bolts like a phantom past the winning post, his mane moonflowing, his eyeballs stars.

slow eyes and parted lips gave her the appearance of a woman who did not know where she was or where she was going.

Havvah-ban-Annah

With hungered flesh obscurely, he mutely craved to adore.

Hushkah, a horn! Gadolmagtog! God es El?

he knew the way to take a woman when he sent me the 8 big poppies because mine was the 8th

that was owl the God's clock it was

It filled me with fear, and yet I longed to be nearer to it and to look upon its deadly work.

The artist, like the God of creation, remains within or behind or beyond or above his handiwork, invisible, refined out of existence, indifferent, paring his fingernails.

Why have women such eyes of witchery?

Somewhere, parently in the ginnandgo gap between antediluvious and annadominant the copyist must have fled the scroll.

If Dann's dane, Ann's dirty, if he's plane she's purty, if he's fane, she's flirty, with her auburnt streams, and her coy cajoleries, and her dabblin drolleries, for to rouse his rudderup, or to drench his dreams. If hot Hammurabi, or cowld Clesiastes, could espy her pranklings, they'd burst bounds agin, and renounce their ruings, and denounce their doings, for river and iver, and a night. Amin !

It is quite simple. He proves by algebra that Hamlet's grandson is Shakespeare's grandfather and that he himself is the ghost of his own father.

Achdung! Pozor! Attenshune! Vikeroy Besights Smucky Yung Pigeschoolies. Tri Paisdinernes Eventyr Med Lochlanner Fathach I Fiounnisgehaven. Bannalanna Bangs Ballyhooly Out Of Her Buddaree Of A Bullavogue.