Quotes About Mystery

Are the waves of the brain drawn like tides of the ocean by some psychic moon, as yet unexplored?

[M]y theory... there was a crack in Pansay's head and a little bit of the Dark World came through and pressed him to death.

The night sky is a miracle of infinitude.

The moon was but a chin of gold A night or two ago, And now she turns her perfect face Upon the world below. Her forehead is of amplest blond; Her cheek like beryl stone; Her eye unto the summer dew The likest I have known... And what a privilege to be But the remotest star! For certainly her way might pass Beside your twinkling door. Her bonnet is the firmament, The universe her shoe, The stars the trinkets at her belt, Her dimities of blue.

The stars were mingled with my dreams...

glowing ghost-clouds lit by a haunted moon

Under the stars, the world is a different place.

With all your science can you tell how it is, and whence it is, that light comes into the soul?

The clock strikes one that just struck two – Some schism in the sum; A sorcerer from Genesis Has wrecked the pendulum.

God doesn't wear a wristwatch.

...is it not kin of the human family with its roots in the earth and its arms stretching toward the sky as if to seek and to know the great mystery?

I've had secrets come out of my typewriter in invisible ink.

I for one have always believed in the unicorn... The unicorn has managed to weave itself a very haunting reputation.

The greatest delight which the fields and woods minister is the suggestion of an occult relation between man and the vegetable. I am not alone and unacknowledged. They nod to me, and I to them.

If there is magic on this planet, it is contained in water.

When people ask me what I did over the weekend I always squint and say, "Why, what did you hear?"

When he looked up and saw me walking toward him, he winked, causing me to stop dead in my tracks and gape. Clearly, his winks were some sort of superpower, because I swear that if he asked me to jump from the roof of a tall building and then winked, I'd jump.

He was a little high-dried man, with a dark squeezed-up face, and small restless black eyes, that kept winking and twinkling on each side of his little inquisitive nose, as if they were playing a perpetual game of bo-peep with that feature.

It's peeking round the corner Playing hide and seek I see its icy fingers A frost'd rosy cheek — Days fall ever shorter Autumn's air is chilling Warmth no longer lingers Wild things are stilling

His quick brain, wise in the ways of women, endeavoured to riddle her attitude and just failed. Was she very deep, or very simple?... her fascination almost thrilled him.

...I had seen to gather herself out of the atoms of the mist. She was so fair to look on, so radiantly beautiful, so exquisitely voluptuous, that the very instinct of man in me, which calls some of my sex to love and to protect one of hers, made my head whirl with new emotion.

I did not say she was alive, my child... I go no further than to say that she might be Un-Dead.

@AnonymousVoyeur, tweet, 2012

And the night shall be filled with music...