Quotes About Mystery

It's a mystery. A man's at odds to know his mind cause his mind is aught he has to know it with. He can know his heart, but he don't want to. Rightly so. Best not to look in there.

Black: The point is, Professor, that I aint got the first notion in the world about what makes God tick. I don't know why he spoke to me. I wouldnt of. White: But you listened. Black: Well what choice would you have? White: I don't know. Not listen? Black: How you goin to do that?

Will children yet to come harbor a longing for a thing they cannot even name? The legacy of the word is a fragile thing for all its power, but I know where you stand, Squire. I know that there are words spoken by men ages dead that will never leave your heart.

Pe-acest drum nu mai e nici un suflet de om de la care s? auzi vorba Domnului. S-au dus, iar eu am r?mas È™i ei au luat cu ei lumea. Întrebare: prin ce se deosebeÈ™te ce nu va fi niciodat? de ce nu a fost niciodat??

And if the dried and blackened shell of him is found among the sands by travelers to come yet who can discover the engine of his ruin?

I dont want anybody talking about me. To say where I was or what I said when I was there. I mean, you could talk about me maybe. But nobody could say that it was me. I could be anybody. I think in times like these the less said the better. If something had happened and we were survivors and we met on the road then we'd have something to talk about. But we're not. So we dont.

How come this and how come that? I dont know. How come sheep dont shrink in the rain? We're working without a net here.

Ultimately there is nothing to know and no one to know it.

It's a mystery. A man's at odds to know his mind cause his mind is aught he has to know it with. He can know his heart, but he dont want to. Rightly so.

Blood was a condition of their lives and none asked what had befallen him or why.

What's in a shadow? Do they move along at the speed of the light that casts them? How deep do they get?

I'd always had the idea that I didnt want to be found. That if you died and nobody knew about it that would be as close as you could get to never having been here in the first place.

So where does music come from?

The mountain road brick-red of dust laced with lizard tracks, coming up through the peach orchard, hot, windless, cloistral in a silence of no birds save one vulture hung in the smokeblue void of the sunless mountainside, rocking on the high updrafts, and the road turning and gated with bullbriers waxed and green, and the green cadaver grin sealed in the murky waters of the peach pit, slimegreen skull with newts coiled in the eyesockets and a wig of moss.

He sipped his coffee. The face that lapped and shifted in the dark liquid in the cup seemed an omen of things to come.

For the most part they were dead by rumor. A yellowed scrap of newsprint. A letter. A telegram.

What do you think death is, man? Of whom do we speak when we speak of a man who was and is not? Are these blind riddles or are they not some part of every man's jurisdiction? What is death if not an agency? And whom does he intend toward?

Ya?ad?klar? derin sularda her ?ey insandan daha ya?l?yd? ve esrarl? ?eyler m?r?ldan?rlard?.

Wow, said Bianca.

But have you not met people in your dreams you never saw before? In dreams or out? Sure. And who were they? I dont know. Dream people.

He watched her until she was lost among the tourists. Men and women alike turning to look after her. He thought that God's goodness appeared in strange places. Don't close your eyes.

Quién está? he said, but no one spoke back. There was someone there and they had been there. There was no one there. There was someone there and they had been there and they had not left but there was no one there.

believes that the secrets of the world are forever hidden lives in mystery and fear. Superstition will drag him down. The rain will erode the deeds of his life. But that man who sets himself the task of singling out the thread of order from the tapestry will by the decision alone have taken charge of the world and it is only by such taking charge that he will effect a way to dictate the terms of his own fate.

El hombre que cree que los secretos del mundo están ocultos para siempre vive inmerso en el misterio y el miedo. La superstición acabará con él. La lluvia erosionará los actos de su vida. Pero el hombre que se impone la tarea de reconocer el hilo conductor del orden de entre el tapiz habrá asumido por esa sola decisión la responsabilidad del mundo y es solo mediante esa asunción que producirá el modo de dictar los términos de su propio destino.