Quotes About Mystery

Dear Valentine, I love you. Whoever you are.

The worst part of it is you don't know if he's barking at an owl, the moon or a burglar!" "That's one of the drawbacks of a limited vocabulary!

The law is a sort of hocus-pocus science.

I'm nobody I'm a tramp, a bum, a hobo I'm a boxcar and a jug of wine And a straight razor ...if you get too close to me

No sense makes sense.

If you're going to do something, do it well. And leave something witchy.

Beauty is mysterious as well as terrible. God and devil are fighting there, and the battlefield is the heart of man.

deep. Something only God can do. He both broke and filled my heart at the same time. I still don't understand that. Over

That which we cannot speak about, we must pass over in silence." At the time

don't pretend to understand all of what happened. But I do know this—this right here is just prelude. Dress rehearsal. The intro. One of these days each one of us is going to get called up and given the chance to join our voices in a song we've never heard, yet one we've known our whole lives. "My dad

That which we cannot speak about, we must pass over in silence." At the time I had not read Wittgenstein

shot an arrow into the air, it fell to earth, I knew not where; for so swiftly it flew, the sight could not follow in its flight. I breathed a song into the air, it fell to earth I knew not where; for who has sight so keen and strong, that it can follow the flight of a song? Long, long afterward, in an oak, I found the arrow still unbroke, and the song, from beginning to end, I found again in the heart of a friend.

What you got comes from some place none of the rest of us know nothing about. That makes you special.

Such days of autumnal decline hold a strange mystery which adds to the gravity of all our moods. Every step that Time takes imprints upon the fields as they grow bare and brown...

Such days of autumnal decline hold a strange mystery which adds to the gravity of all our moods.

Do not be alarmed if they look paler than the other maidens of Greece. They are scarcely of this Earth, and seem to be shaking off the sleep of a past life.

The perfect lover is one who turns into a pizza at 4:oo AM

There is no knowing what is in a man's heart.

The reasons one gives for an action to others and to one's self are certainly inadequate. One can give a reason for everything. In the last resort, one acts from a level which remains hidden from us. So one can only ask God to judge us and to forgive us." —THE WAY TO FREEDOM

Wolf: Bounty Hunter

Both in space and time, we seem to be brought somewhat near to that great fact—the mystery of mysteries—the first appearance of new beings on this earth.

In the book of life, the answers are not at the back.

If the photographers are soul-thieves, whose soul is being stolen in a photograph of the night sky? The soul of the last one to go to bed and the soul of the first one to rise in the morning, perhaps? Photography is a black art like alchemy. It turns matter into spirit and spirit into matter. Still, there are moments when looking at a photograph of a night sky we have a hunch what the word soul means, what the word infinity encompasses.

MY SECRET IDENTITY IS The room is empty, And the window is open