Quotes About Mystery

There's no place on earth with more of the old superstitions and magic mixed into its daily life than the Scottish Highlands.

What is it about ye, Sassenach, I wonder?" he said conversationally, eyes still fixed on Myers. What is what about me?" He turned then, and gave me a narrow eye. What it is that makes every man ye meet want to take off his breeks within five minutes of meetin' ye.

Sometimes a shadow rises, and death lies nameless in the dark.

I wondered what sort of man - or woman, perhaps? - had lain here, leaving no more than an echo of their bones, so much more fragile than the enduring rocks that sheltered them.

We come and go from mystery and, in between, we try to forget.

It wasn't a very likely place for disappearances, at least at first glance.

Double, double toil and trouble," he chanted under his breath. "Fire burn and caldron bubble. Fillet of a fenny snake, in the caldron boil and bake. Eye of newt and toe of frog, wool of bat and tongue of dog Ã¢â'¬Â¦Ã¢â'¬Â He couldn't recall what came next and abandoned the

He still didn't know why the frog hadn't killed him.

Some people can leave their bodies and travel miles away," she said, staring meditatively at the page. "Other people see them out wandering, and recognize them, and ye can bloody prove they were really tucked up safe in bed at the time. I've seen the records, all the eyewitness testimony. Some people have stigmata ye can see and touch—I've seen one. But not everybody. Only certain people." She

She said if ever I saw you again, I was to tell you two things, just as she told them to me. The first was, "I think it is possible, but I do not know." And the second—the second was just numbers. She made me say them over, to be sure I had them right, for I was to tell them to you in a certain order. The numbers were one, nine, six, and seven.

It is possible to act in strict accordance with God's law and with one's conscience, you comprehend, and still to encounter difficulties and tragedy. It is the painful truth that we still do not know why le bon Dieu allows evil to exist, but we have His word for it that this is true.

If ever you find yourself in the midst of paradox, you can be sure you stand on the edge of truth.

A strange thought occurs to me. There is of course no point of similarity between yourself and Stapleton in terms of circumstance or character. And yet there is one peculiar commonality. Both you and Stapleton know. And for your separate reasons, cannot or will not speak of it to anyone. The odd result of this is that I feel quite free in the company of either one of you, in a way that I cannot be free with any other man.

this is just the

Nothing moved on the surface but faint coruscations of starlight, caught like fireflies in a spider's web.

What a mystery blood was—how did a tiny gesture, a tone of voice, endure through generations like the harder verities of flesh? He had seen it again and again, watching his nieces and nephews grow, and accepted without thought the echoes of parent and grandparent that appeared for brief moments, the shadow of a face looking back through the years—that vanished again into the face that was now.

We come and go from mystery and, in between, we try to forget. But a breeze passing in a still room stirs my hair now and then in soft affection. I think it is my mother.

If ever you find yourself in the midst of paradox, you can be sure you stand on the edge of truth," his adoptive father had told him once. "You may not know what it is, mind," he'd added with a smile. "But it's there.

Not everyone who goes through the stones comes out again." His look sharpened. "How d'ye ken that, Sassenach?" "I can—I could—hear them. Screaming." I

Diana Gabaldon

What it is between us, when I touch you, when you … lie with me? Is it always so between a man and a woman?" In spite of his difficulties, I knew exactly what he meant. His gaze was direct, holding my eyes as he waited my answer. I wanted to look away, but couldn't. "There's often something like it," I said, and had to stop and clear my throat. "But no. No, it isn't—usual. I have no idea why, but no. This is … different.

as usual in such matters, God's sense of humor trumped all imagination.

Conflict and character are the heart of good fiction, and good mystery has both of those in spades.

Ma chère, I serve a man who multiplied the loaves and fishes"—he smiled, nodding at the pool, where the swirls of the carps' feeding were still subsiding—"who healed the sick and raised the dead. Shall I be astonished that the master of eternity has brought a young woman through the stones of the earth to do His will?