Quotes About Mystery

Craig Johnson

Her fingers were cool, and her palms were strangely devoid of any lines, as if her life was yet to be determined.

We are finite beings; how can we understand the infinite?

I thought about how you could kill a victim only once, but how a crime scene could die a thousand deaths.

Hey youngster, I didn't catch your name." I paused for only a second, continuing to look down the valley at the small town. "I didn't throw it.

Combining the gait of a fine horse, the comfort of your favorite Indian blanket, and the ease of a well-worn saddle, Mark Langley's Path of the Dead is one heck of a debut novel coming out of the gate. —Craig Johnson, author of the Walt Longmire Mysteries, the basis for the Netflix drama Longmire.

Craig Johnson

Un pezzo di cielo caduto in terra

Walt, the guy is Professor Moriarty—he's leaving bodies around like the Black Plague.

Jasper Jones fell out of this world and nobody noticed...And they'll notice now because something has been burned. Now they'll look for Jasper Jones.

Because a girl goes missing in this town and it's Jasper Jones who is held and threatened and belted for days, but somehow those monsters will arouse no suspicion.

You have so many layers, that you can peel away a few, and everyone's so shocked or impressed that you're baring your soul, while to you it's nothing, because you know you've twenty more layers to go.

We know nothing about those we love, except our need of their presence

Descubrir a Dios entre las sábanas —no en el templo fariseo ni en la altiva mezquita— sábanas blancas sudario del amor que te cubría manto sagrado iniciar la bienaventurada ascensión de tu piel a la eternidad de tu vientre al círculo celestial sentir a Dios en tus húmedas cavidades en el grito vertiginoso de la jauría de tus vísceras

You walk in my dreams, Leafpool

What is life It is the flash of a firefly in the night. It is the breath of a buffalo in the winter time.

What is life It is the flash of a firefly in the night. It is the breath of a buffalo in the wintertime. It is the little shadow which runs across the grass and loses itself in the sunset.

Even a man who's pure in heartAnd says his prayers at nightMay become a wolf when the wolfbane bloomsAnd the autumn moon is bright.

Nothing was a sure thing; every choice was just an educated guess, or a leap into a mysterious abyss. People might not change but their incentives could. So

being an atheist required more belief than he had, a kind of determined certainty about mystery that he didn't think was feasible or possible, admirable or even desirable.

Why do you taste like dessert?" Iona wanted to know. He deliberately let his eyes widen. "Because I'm awesome?

Fuck. A woman's eyes shouldn't make a guy feel like she was stealing his soul with just a glance.

We might be a bit slow on some things down in the South, but we know murder.

Death was here. The showdown wouldn't occur with the darkness of Halloween. It had come at dawn, and it bathed them in blood.