Quotes About Mystery

The wolf is made he way the world is made. You cannot touch the world. You cannot hold it in your hand for it is made of breath only.

The truth about the world, [he said,] is that anything is possible. Had you not seen it all from birth and thereby bled it of its strangeness it would appear to you for what it is, a hat trick in a medicine show, a fevered dream, a trance bepopulate with chimeras having neither analogue nor precedent, an itinerant carnival, a migratory tentshow whose ultimate destination after many a pitch in many a mudded field is unspeakable and calamitous beyond reckoning.

Under the hooves of the horses the alabaster sand shaped itself in whorls strangely symmetric like iron filings in a field and these shapes flared and drew back again, resonating upon that harmonic ground and then turning to swirl away over the playa. As if the very sediment of things contained yet some residue of sentience. As if in the transit of those riders were a thing so profoundly terrible as to register even to the uttermost granulation of reality

Your heart's desire is to be told some mystery. The mystery is that there is no mystery.

Em qualquer acontecimento a história de todos não é a história de cada um nem tampouco a soma dessas histórias e ninguém aqui no final pode entender o motivo de sua presença pois ninguém tem como saber no que o acontecimento consiste. Na verdade, se a pessoa soubesse é bem provável que se ausentasse e como você pode ver isso não pode ser parte do plano se é que algum plano há.

A big lemoncolored cat watched him from the top of a woodstove. He turned his head to see it better and it elongated itself like hot taffy down the side of the stove and vanished headfirst in the earth without a sound.

Dustfinger inspected his reddened fingers and felt the taut skin. 'He might tell me how my story ends,' he murmured. Meggie looked at him in astonishment. 'You mean you don't know?' Dustfinger smiled. Meggie still didn't particularly like his smile. It seemed to appear only to hide something else. 'What's so unusual about that, princess?' he asked quietly. 'Do you know how your story ends?' Meggie had no answer for that.

The night swallowed him up like a thieving fox.

They wouldn't tell Scipio how much of the counterfeit cash was left since, as Riccio put it, 'You're a detective now, after all.

Words,words filled the night like the fragrance of invisible flowers.

Yes, I do enjoy walking at night. The world's more to my liking then, not so loud, not so fast, not so crowded, and a good deal more mysterious.

Breath the words and they will come to life; as of words of magic

A mirror hung between the shelves. Clara stepped in front of it and let her fingers run over the silver roses that covered the frame. She had never seen anything so beautiful. The glass they surrounded was dark, as if the night had spilled onto it. It was misted up, and right where she saw the reflection of her face was the imprint of a hand.

Where did the love come from? What was it made of?

Secrets. They add to the darkness of the world but they also make you want to find out more...

Although we may wish for it, true magic is a scary thing.

She'd been so certain she knew every crevice of his heart, but Jacob was like a country she'd only traveled through halfway.

I know you all think I'm a magician, but I'm not. The magic comes out of the books themselves, and I have no more idea than you or any of your men how it works.

What's so unusual about that, princess?" he asked quietly. "Do you know how your story ends?

Well what does it matter,' he muttered when he was out in the corridor. 'Who wants to know the end of a story in advance?

Belive you me, this maze is a labrinth!

Sometimes a crow lands on the roof of the house. It sits there for hours and watches the girl. The woman doesn't chase the bird away.

Death has white hounds.

Sometimes we think we know people at first sight," he said. "As though we'd met them a hundred times before, in another life, in another world. And then we realize that we know nothing. How did they look as children? What dreams startle them from their sleep?