Quotes About Mystery

Your ears are lovely, he said, but there's a kind of eerie beauty to your profile.

Era el cuerpo de mujer que invitaba al hombre a los círculos inferiores del infierno.

Las noches ofrecen sapos, perros negro y cadáveres de ahogados.

Tu eÈ™ti singurul care nu-È›i vezi propria fa??. ÎÈ›i atingi zilnic figura convins fiind c? imaginea reflectat? ar fi cea pe care o vezi direct. Ky?ko r?mase un timp pe gânduri, întrebându-se ce sens o avea oare faptul c? Dumnezeu i-a f?cut pe oameni astfel încât s? nu-È™i poat? vedea chipul.

And then you may think of it as promiscuous, but the girl herself is asleep, and doesn't even know who she has slept with. The girl the other time and the girl tonight will never know a thing about you, and to speak of promiscuousness is a little…

Por qué florecía aquel loto en medio de una hoguera? ¿Por qué no se marchitaba?

Una de las muchachas era hermosa. Llevaba un bulto envuelto en un pañuelo con un diseño blanco de mil grullas sobre un fondo rosado de crespón

Do you understand what I have not said and what you have not heard in this room that does not exist?

And I became fixated, too, upon Katharine Hepburn's famous Fred and Ginger theory: He gives her class, she gives him sex. Was this a general rule? Did all friendships—all relations—involve this discreet and mysterious exchange of qualities, this exchange of power?

I got something to tell you, said Keisha Blake, disguising her voice with her voice.

Did all friendships—all relations—involve this discreet and mysterious exchange of qualities, this exchange of power?

for the Owl there was something Infinitely Preferable About the Night. The Owl had difficulty explaining this to other birds.

Unbeknownst to all involved, ancient ley-lines run underneath these two journeys—or, to put it in modern parlance, this is a rerun.

These are old secrets. They will come out like wisdom teeth when the time is right.)

But here I fear I am becoming nostalgic. I am dreaming of a Web that caters to a kind of person who no longer exists. A private person, a person who is a mystery, to the world and—which is more important—to herself. Person as mystery: this idea of personhood is certainly changing, perhaps has already changed. Because I find I agree with Zuckerberg: selves evolve.

begins with you walking towards a huge pit. The pit is on the other side of a precipice, which you cannot see over until you are right at its edge. Your death is awaiting you in that pit. You don't know what it looks like or sounds like or smells like. You don't know whether it will be good or bad. You just walk towards it. Your will is a clarinet and your footsteps are attended by all the violins. The closer you get to the pit, the more you begin to have the

Mogla bih da prepri?am sadržaj, ali bilo bi to kao opisivati katedralu govore?i za nju da je gomila kamenja koja se završava jednim šiljkom

Armies of marching men told of that blight of nations old or young—war. These, and birds unnamable, and beasts unclassable, with dots and marks and hieroglyphics, recorded the history of a bygone people. Symbols they were of an era that had gone into the dim past, leaving only these marks, {Symbols recording the history of a bygone people.} forever unintelligible; yet while they stood, century after century, ineffaceable, reminders of the glory, the mystery, the sadness of life.

only back of the bar. A white-clad figure rushed

perhaps he and this man, alone on the desert, driven there by life's mysterious and remorseless motive, were to see each other through God's eyes. His

she began to stand around the gate and expect things. What things? She didn't know exactly. Her breath was gusty and short. She knew things that nobody ever told her. For instance, the words of the trees and the wind. .. She knew the world was a stallion rolling in the blue pasture of ether. She knew that God tore down the old world every evening and built a new one by sun-up. It was wonderful to see it take form with the sun and emerge from the gray dust of its making.

She was saving up feelings for some man she had never seen.

Mystery is the essence of divinity

Night came walking through Egypt swishing her black dress.