Quotes About Mystery

Why? I demanded of her. Why bring the child into this? Why not just come straight to me? Does it matter at this point? I shrugged. Not really. I'm curious. She stared at me for a moment and then she smiled. You don't know. I eyed her warily. Don't know what? Dear boy, she said. This was never about you . I scowled. I don't understand. Obviously, Arianna said, and gave me a stunning smile. Die confused.

Mab] was pale, beautiful on a scale that beggared simple description, and I harbored a healthy and rational terror of her.

One thing you can count on when visiting the Nevernever: you don't ever get bored.

I didn't look up, occupied as I was with brooding, a famous pastime of wizards everywhere.

I couldn't ever remember actually doing more than waving at this guy as I went past. I was pretty sure I hadn't ever introduced my dog. How did he know Mouse's name? Damned pooch is more a of people person than I'll ever be.

Everyone thinks magic is something different.

We need to get out, I said. My voice sounded raw to me. Trouble coming. No, said a beautiful Sidhe baritone. Trouble is here. They appeared from behind their veils, one by one, with so much melodrama that I was mildly surprised that they hadn't each struck some kind of kung fu pose.

Whatever had killed him, it hadn't been human. His face was gone, simply torn away. Something had ripped his lips off. I could see his bloodstained teeth. His nose had been torn all the way up one side, and part of it dangled toward the floor. His head was misshapen, as though some enormous pressure had been put upon his temples, warping his skull in.

You couldn't guess at a breed to look at him, but at least one of his parents must have been a wooly mammoth.

My name is Harry Blackstone Copperfield Dresden. Conjure by it at your own risk.

It is the prerogative of wizards to be grumpy.

Bob," I asked. "What is all my stuff doing here?" "Oh," Bob said. "That. Well. Bianca got the idea, somewhere, that your stuff might explode if anyone messed around with it." I heard the wryness in my voice, though I didn't feel it. "She did, did she." "I can't imagine how." "I'm doubling your pay.

Could just be Chicago. Which can be just as scary as Mab, some days.

We wizards are terrific at brooding.

Mab narrowed her eyes, and a little smile graced her lips. "Impudent," she said. "It's sweet on you.

Aaaaaaaagh!" I screamed, emerging from the wards and onto Murphy's front lawn, chock-full of new insight as to why ghosts are always moaning or wailing when they come popping out of somebody's wall or floor. Not much mystery there—it freaking hurts.

Death by nursery tale. Hell's bells.

I didn't follow her right away. She didn't look back. Stab. Twist. God, I love being a wizard.

The Shroud was old, and regarded as special, and people believed in it. That could be enough to give it a kind of power, all by itself.

I held my hand up, frowning. Wait a minute. Where did you say this thing was stolen from? The Cathedral of Saint John the Baptist. Father Vincent said. In Northern Italy. I said. He nodded. In Turin, to be exact. He nodded again, his expression reserved. Someone stole the freaking Shroud of Turin ? I demanded. Yes. I settled back in the chair, looking down at the photos again. This changed things. This changed things a lot.

When people come to the only professional wizard in the Chicago phone book for help, they're one of two things: desperate or smart. Very rarely are they both.

The energy of night was far different than that of the daylight—not inherently evil, but wilder, more dangerous, more unpredictable.

You know how to use magic?" I asked. "I prefer calculus.

Sometimes, being able to use magic was so cool.