Quotes About Mystery

He pass'd the flaming bounds of place and time:The living throne, the sapphire-blaze,Where angels tremble, while they gaze,He saw; but blasted with excess of light,Closed his eyes in endless night.

There are mysteries in science, and mysteries in art, but the greatest mystery has always been another person's deepest motivation.

In the end, no one knew what caused madness.

There's no escaping the Taoist adage, "Those who speak do not know, those who know do not speak.

Because, as we are told—a sad old joke, too— Ghosts, like the ladies, never speak till spoke to.

Lost in his own horrific contemplations... When at the bed's foot, close beside the post, He verily believed he saw—a Ghost!... From every pore distill'd a clammy dew, Quaked every limbe—the candle, too... The room was fill'd with a sulphureous smell, But where that came from Mason could not tell.

How, frequently, some murder'd man appear'd, To tell his wife and children who had done it...

Witnesses have stated that a piece of it was extremely thin and light—the color of aluminum—and that one could crumple a piece of it up in one's hand and then lay it on a flat surface, where it would quickly un-crumple itself into its original flat, pristine condition, without evidence of a crease. It also could not be scratched, cut, burned, or permanently deformed in any way.

As St. Thomas Aquinas (1225–1274) taught, whatever we say about God is more unlike God than saying nothing. If we do say something, it can only be a pointer toward the Mystery that can never be articulated in words. All that words can do is point in the direction of the Mystery.

My soule, poore soule thou talkes of things/ Thou knowest not what, my soule hath sliver wings,/ That mounts me up unto the highest heavens.

The only value of this world lay in its power - at certain times - to suggest another world.

The attic is not haunting your head – your head is haunting the attic. Some heads are more haunted than others, whether they are haunted by ghosts or by gods or by creatures from outer space.

ultimately, all diseases are magical diseases... ("Gas Station Carnival")

All things considered, the happiest epitaph to have etched on one's headstone is this: 'He never knew what hit him'.

Amnesia may well be the highest sacrament in the great gray ritual of existence.

Some heads are more haunted than others, whether they are haunted by ghosts or by gods or by creatures from outer space.

For wherever mystery serves as a foundation, only ruins may be erected.

Long exasperated by questions without answers, by answers without consequences, by truths which change nothing, we learn to become intoxicated by the mood of mystery itself, by the odor of the unknown. We are entranced by the subtle scents and wavering reflections of the unimaginable.

Two tiny corpses, one male and the other female, rattle around that enormous closet in my bedroom. Though deceased, still they are quick enough to hide themselves whenever I need to enter the closet to retrieve something.

Perhaps one of the walls to such a room would have built into it a sliding panel that could be opened only from the other side. And next to that room would be another room that was unfurnished and seemed never to have been occupied. But leaning against one wall of this other room, directly below the sliding panel, would be some long wooden sticks; and mounted at the ends of these sticks would be horrible little puppets.

All that was left to us was to wonder: who knows all that is innate to this world, or to any other? Why should there not be something buried deep within appearances, something that wears a mask to hide itself behind the visibility of nature?

The place was also slightly haunted,

Why should there be something rather than nothing?

The soft black stars have already begun to fill the sky.