Quotes About Mystery

Follow me, reader, if you dare. Take my hand, for we can fly swifter than the Deadly Shadow; we can follow the sound of ticking teeth faster than they can, and trace the Hero back to where he lies, on the little isle of Hero's End.

If you were a fanciful person, you might have said that it was almost as if that box was looking for Hiccup. But we are not fanciful people, and that would be ridiculous.

The Supper is still singing.

the witch softly, 'for the dragons' days are numbered

The witch sprang animal-like from

Kind of. White guy, maybe in his thirties, really big. Driving an old brown Toyota. The cops are after him now.

unfold an ornate portable mirror and invite my lovers

He seemed simultaneously like a stranger and someone she knew extremely well; there was either an enormous amount to say or nothing at all.

though as secrets went, this wasn't great. The kind I preferred were about specific people.

You never know the nature of another couple's marriage, do you?

Napoli è la più misteriosa città d'Europa, è la sola città del mondo antico che non sia perita come Ilio, come Ninive, come Babilonia. È la sola città del mondo che non è affondata nell'immane naufragio della civiltà antica. Napoli è una Pompei che non è stata mai sepolta. Non è una città: è un mondo.

Joanna had the fisherman's pie. 'What's under the mashed potato?' Slider asked. Joanna chewed thoughtfully for a moment and then looked down. 'Something white,' she said at last. 'With little bits of something pink.' She chewed again. 'I am eating, aren't I?' she appealed for reassurance. 'It's so hard to tell without some sensory input, like taste or texture.

The final mystery is one mystery. But the manifestations are many.

There had been nothing between them, and yet they had come together, exchanging their nakedness repeatedly.... She had never seen him, he had never seen her, they had met in the dark and had fought in the dark, not knowing whom they met or whom they fought. And now she saw, and turned silent in seeing. For she had been wrong. She had said he was something he was not; she had felt familiar with him. Whereas he was apart all the while, living as she never lived, feeling as she never felt.

There is a sixth sense . . . that is the sense of wonder.

She lowered her eyes, and suddenly saw the fox. He was looking up at her. Her chin was pressed down, and his eyes were looking up. They met her eyes. And he knew her. She was spellbound — she knew he knew her. So he looked into her eyes, and her soul failed her. He knew her, he was not daunted.

The wood was silent, still and secret in the evening drizzle of rain, full of the mystery of eggs and half-open buds, half unsheathed flowers. In the dimness of it all trees glistened naked and dark as if they had unclothed themselves, and the green things on earth seemed to hum with greenness.

What is the knocking? What is the knocking at the door in the night? It is somebody who wants to do us harm. No, no, it is the three strange angels. Admit them, admit them.

It's just love, she said cheerfully. whatever that may be, he replied.

Connie went for walks in the park, and in the woods that joined the park, and enjoyed the solitude and the mystery, kicked the brown leaves of autumn, and picked the primroses of spring. But it was all a dream; or rather it was like the simulacrum of reality. The oak leaves were to her like oak-leaves seen ruffling in a mirror, she herself was a figure somebody had read about, picking primroses that were only shadows or memories, or words. No substance to her or anything...no touch, no contact!

there is no pornography without a secrecy.

She was old; millions of years old, she felt.

She was like a forest, like the dark interlacing of the oakwood, humming inaudibly with myriad unfolding buds. Meanwhile the birds of desire were asleep in the vast interlaced intricacy of her body.

Water is H2O, hydrogen two parts, oxygen one, but there is also a third thing, that makes it water, and nobody knows what it is." —D. H. Lawrence, Pansies