Quotes About Mystery

My hands were cold, and I felt slightly sick. What in the name of God was going on? The Governor's shock at learning that I was Jamie's wife was now at least partially explained; that one glimpse of unguarded, painful yearning had told me exactly how matters stood on his side. Jamie was another question altogether.

When we met, that night aboard the Porpoise—I'm glad you didn't know who I was. I Ã¢â'¬Â¦ liked you. Then.

If you knew they were really balls of flaming gas, you could imagine them as van Gogh saw them, without difficulty Ã¢â'¬Â¦ and looking into that illuminated void, you understood why people have always looked up into the sky when talking to God. You need to feel the immensity of something very much bigger than yourself, and there it is—immeasurably vast, and always near at hand. Covering you. Help me, I said silently. I

Aye, and it had a thing on top like a wee club, only wi' a knob to each end, and the club was tied to the box wi' a sort of black cord, curled up on itself like a piggie's tail. Jem saw it, and he reached out his hand, and said, 'I want to talk to Grandda.' And then I woke." He leaned his head back farther, so as to look up into my face. "Would ye ken what a thing like that might be, Sassenach? It was like nothing I've ever seen.

But it was something to do with the paintings Ã¢â'¬Â¦

That's right," she said softly, watching. "It's not everyone can go through the stones, is it? Why us?

She turned another page. "If everyone can do it, it's science. If only a few can, then it's witchcraft, or superstition, or whatever you like to call it," she said. "But it's real." She looked up at me, green eyes bright as a snake's over the crumbling book. "We're real, Claire—you and me. And special. Have ye never asked yourself why?" I

If everyone can do it, it's science. If only a few can, then it's witchcraft, or superstition, or whatever you like to call it, she said. But it's real.

Diana Gabaldon

to meet her fate beneath the rowan trees in the hills near

crepuscle, the mysterious half-light that comes at both ends of the day, when the small secret things come out to feed. There

seeking refuge from a world in which huge and mysterious forces were let loose to destruction.

Well, that's of no consequence just now. But he did not tell you—that is—has he not told you about Willie?" I stared at him blankly. "Who's Willie?" Instead of explaining, he bent and opened the drawer of his desk. He pulled out a small object and laid it on the desk, motioning me to come closer.

If thee thinks the spirit of God is necessarily logical, thee know Him better than I do." She

Yes," he said softly. "I know about him. It doesn't

She had seen Brianna's face for a moment in the light; white as paper and hard as bone, with the eyes black holes. Her gentle, kindly mistress had vanished like smoke, taken over by a deamhan, a she-devil. Lizzie was a town lass, born long after Culloden. She had never seen the wild clansmen of the glens, or a Highlander in the grip of blood fury—but she'd heard the auld stories, and now she knew them true. A person who looked like that might do anything at all. She

has by all reports got a character that would enable him to hide conveniently behind a spiral staircase.

ROOM FOR SECRETS

What happened, she says! Aye, what indeed? I tell ye to stay all snug below wi' Marsali, and next thing I ken, ye've dropped out of the sky and landed at my feet, sopping wi' blood!

Who—" My voice was hoarse with shock, and I had to stop and clear my throat. "Who is his mother?" Grey hesitated, eyeing me closely, then shrugged slightly. "Was. She's dead.

le Comte Saint Germain," he said, and paused

If dark matter and dark energy are 95 percent of everything, shouldn't we all be asking questions about that? What does that look like?

Artists probably should have some impenetrable aspects of themselves.

I have always been comfortable that no one has been able to assess what I really have.