Quotes About Mystery

What could he know at two months old, head like a question mark?

I know nothing of my biological parents. They live on a lost continent of DNA. Like Atlantis, all record of them is sunk. They are guesswork, speculation, mythology. The only proof I have of them is myself, and what proof is that, so many times written over? Written on the body is a secret code, only visible in certain lights. I do not know my time of birth. I am not entirely sure of the date. Having brought no world with me, I made one.

She was night-time and words were the dream.

What other places are there in the world than those discovered on a lover's body?

The trouble with babies is that they are made like a safe – no way to see what's inside and no guarantee that the effort will be worth the trouble.

Le chiesi perchè non voleva libri in casa e lei rispose: Il guaio di un libro è che scopri cosa contiene solo quando è troppo tardi. Io pensai: Troppo tardi per cosa? Cominciai a leggere di nascosto [...] ogni volta che aprivo le pagine di un libro mi chiedevo se questa volta sarebbe stato troppo tardi: avrei dovuto un sorso fatale che mi avrebbe trasformato per sempre.

Written on the body is a secret code only visible in certain lights.

Spike came forward and put her arms around me. 'One day, tens of millions of years from now, someone will find me rusted into the mud of a world they have never seen, and when they crumble me between their fingers, it will be you they find.

The body was there, the woman inside disappeared.

lo misterioso me inquieta siempre, es harto contrario a mi carácter, abierto hasta la imprudencia.

Mrs. Murdo, walkind even more briskly to keep her spirits up, was crossing Harken Square when something fell to the pavement just in front of her with a terrific thump. How extraordinary, she thought, bending to pick it up. It was sort of a bundle. She began to untie it.

What are those?

She decided to keep this letter because of the strange way it was written.

What must the ancient world have been like, she wondered, with all these strange things moving around in it? Was it wonderful or terrible?

She heard a scrape, and then a rustling sound.

Then there might be dead people.

She's like a bonfire on the darkest night of the year, a bonfire on a prairie in a snowstorm. You can't help yourself, you're going to turn in her direction, and she's doing nothing to make this happen.

everyone who is interesting has a past

What's done at night belongs to the night. In the daytime you don't talk about it.

He has to live in the midst of the incomprehensible, which is detestable. And it has a fascination, too, which goes to work upon him. The fascination of the abomination--you know.

The less manifest the work, the stronger: as though a secret law demanded it always be hidden in what it shows, thus showing what must remain hidden, only showing it, in the end, by dissimulation.

This is truly marvelous work full of mystery, nostalgia, joy, The Color of Whimsy.

There is something mysterious in this work that I do not ever what to discover.

A lot of my work just sort of flows and comes out of me and I don't know why or where.