Quotes About Mystery

It's gone!" he shouted. "The brandy!" said Prudie, lurching to her feet. "'Ere, who's stolen it? 'Twas there an hour gone—" "Not all three kegs!" said Constable Vage, instantly alert. "Why we did oughter have heard them. They couldn't move three kegs without—" "Nay," said Ned Bottrell, shouting above the clamor. "Not the drink, the corpse!

Chi sarebbe stata quel mattino: l'allegra domestica che vedeva alla luce del giorno o la sconosciuta dalla bocca di seta che aveva incontrato in quella notte d'estate?

Sir Hugh squeezed her arm so often that Demelza began to wonder if the show was all a pretext for being with her in dark and drafty places. In one room, where the wind was so high that they might have been out of doors, the rear lantern went out and Sir Hugh put his short, thick arm around her waist. But she slipped away with a faint rustle of silk and moved quickly up to Ross. The stables were the best-

Alla fine, sotto la sporcizia che le copriva il viso, comparve un vago rossore.

Life is like a box of chocolate, you never know what you're going to get.

I cannot forecast to you the action of Russia. It is a riddle wrapped in a mystery inside an enigma. But perhaps there is a key. That key is Russian national interest.

Russia is a riddle wrapped in a mystery inside an enigma

An iron curtain is drawn down upon their front. We do not know what is going on behind.

The unnatural principle of human sacrifice was carried by the British Druids to a ruthless pitch. The mysterious priesthoods of the forests bound themselves and their votaries together by the most deadly sacrament that men can take. Here, perhaps, upon these wooden altars of a sullen island, there lay one of the secrets, awful, inflaming, unifying, of the tribes of Gaul. And whence did this sombre custom come?

It is a riddle wrapped in a mystery inside an enigma.

Dragostea e un mister È™i c? dragostea e miserul care face lucrurile s? se întâmple.

Whatever inspiration is, it's born from a continuous I don't know....That is why I value that little phrase I don't know so highly. It's small, but it flies on mighty wings. It expands our lives to include spaces within us as well as the outer expanses in which our tiny Earth hangs suspended...Poets, if they're genuine, must always keep repeating I don't know.

Why there's still all this space inside me I don't know.

within the four walls of avalanches, I call out to Yeti. Stomping my feet for warmth on the snow the snow eternal.

Die - you can't do that to a cat... Something doesn't start at its usual time. Something doesn't happen as it should. Someone was always, always here, then suddenly disappeared and stubbornly stays disappeared.

Bear with me, O mystery of existence, as I pluck the occasional thread from your train.

Woods disguised as woods alive without end, and above them birds in flight play birds in flight.

Esperti degli spazi dalla terra alle stelle ci perdiamo nello spazio dalla terra alla testa.

Two conspirators with a frog, following the line of a whiffletree.

Remarkable. A hanged bird. A hanged sparrow. The eccentricity of it clamored with a loud voice and pointed to a human hand that had torn into the thicket—but who? Who hanged it, why, for what reason? .

Ju? si? ?ciemnia?o, ju? prawie by?o ciemno. I wilgotno. Gdzie Fryderyk?

perhaps one of mankind's darkest mysteries—and the most difficult—is actually the one that pertains to this "uniting" of age groups—the manner and course by which youth suddenly becomes accessible to older age and vice versa.

where was she sleeping? Sleeping? As soon as I asked myself that, I became someone walking toward her in the night, down the hallway, barefoot, in just my shirt and pants, the tiny, just-a-tad twirl-up of her lip, slippery and reptilian, together with my cold and disagreeable rejection and estrangement from those I had left behind in Warsaw, drove me coldly toward her swinish lust which, somewhere here, in this sleeping house . . .Where was she sleeping?

The I, the I is what is deeplt mysterious.