Quotes About Mystery

He (Moominpappa) decided to become silent and mysterious, like a Hattifattener. People respected one if one didn't talk. They believed that one knew a great many things and led a very exciting life.

Grandmother thought for a moment, and then she said that superstitious was when you didn't try to explain things that couldn't be explained.

Tell them it's a secret. Tell them they don't need to know.

Laakso jossa he asuivat oli kaunis, täynnä onnellisia pikku mönkiäisiä ja suuria vihreitä puita. Niittyjen halki virtasi joki, joka kaarsi sinisen muumitalon ohi ja katosi toisille seuduille, missä toiset pikku mönkiäiset ihmettelivät mistä se mahtoi tulla.

Man gjemmer ting og så begynner det å lukte.

Making a journey by night is more wonderful than anything in the world.

T? nhiên không yên l?ng. Nó th??ng xuyên thích thú g?i ??n chúng ta nh?ng n?t nh?c r?i r?c. Nh?ng nó không bao gi? ch?u trao cho chúng ta t? ch?c c?a các n?t nh?c ?ó c?ng nh? không ti?t l? cho chúng ta bí m?t giai ?i?u c?a nó.

What happened at the battle was just like magic! The Cronies disappeared, but it wasn't tragic. One by one they popped far away. Where they went, nobody can say!

Ash was the Master of Smoke.

She hovered, her fine-boned face and slender form revealed in the low light of the fire. Her hair was the pale blond hue of moon glow, her eyes the soft, silvery blue of a mist-shrouded lake. Dusted pink as new blush roses, the color of her lips and cheeks gleamed against the creamy whiteness of her skin. For a second he wondered if she was a phantom brought on by too much drink, her ethereal beauty more in keeping with a faerie story than reality.

Grace. Her name whispered through Jack's mind like the silken stroke of a hand. He'd never seen her look as pretty as she did tonight, the vibrant bronze hue of her gown lending her skin a creamy luminosity, her hair gleaming a rich, fiery red that reminded him of living flame. And passion. He wondered if that same intense fire lay hidden inside her, and he relished the idea of finding out.

Almost imperceptibly, he moved closer, the warmth of his body radiating outward, together with his own mesmerizing scent- clean and male and uniquely him. "What fragrance are you wearing?" he asked. "Nothing. I don't wear perfume, at least not often." He inched nearer still, his voice lowering to a murmur. "You're just naturally sweet then, are you? Exactly as I expected.

Welcome to Mount Ruin, Dead Girl.

Let us hope that the Arch somehow survives-that it becomes, far in the future, a mysterious structure like the Great Pyramids or Stonehenge, that leads onlookers to wonder about the people who produced it and ask themselves what strange compulsions led to its creation.

I wanted to wear the mantle and the pearls. I wanted to know the man who painted her like that.

It was not a house where secrets could be kept easily.

point-non-plus.

time never stops, but does it end? and how many lives before take-off, before we find ourselves beyond ourselves, all glam-glow, all twinkle and gold?

So why do we insist He has vanished, that death ran off with our Everything worth having? Why not that he was Swimming only through this life--his slow, Graceful crawl, shoulders rippling, Legs slicing away at the waves, gliding Further into what life itself denies? He is only gone so far as we can tell. Though When I try, I see the white cloud of his hair In the distance like an eternity.

Is this some enigmatic type of test? What if we Fail? How and to whom do we address our appeal?

She's the Indian who lives in my attic.

There are a thousand beautiful things behind that look. A marvelous sort of ache that only a few people know about. Some miraculous sort of sorrow she's managed to walk away from.

You Cannot Escape Beauty And You Cannot Stop Being Attracted To It, Because Beauty Allures. Beauty Seduces. Beauty Wants You To Come Closer.

Milligan! Come and tell us why you're so dreadfully glum!" ~ Constance, The Mysterious Benedict Society