Quotes About Mystery

Cumplit era c?, dup? cum mergeau vorbele, vechiul refugiu al celor asediaÈ›i de r?u: divinitatea, binele È™i viaÈ›a moral?, se aliase pentru întâia oar? cu tenebrele, pentru a-nf??ura lumea în inextricabila pânz? de p?ianjen a nici binelui, nici r?ului, nici extazului, nici groazei, nici a tuturor laolalt?, nici a vidurilor, ci a Altceva, ceva inuman, nediavolesc È™i nedivin, de neperceput cu mintea È™i de neatins cu degetele.

Te-am iubit aÅŸa cum m-ai iubit ÅŸi tu, ca un nebun, ca un strigoi, f?r? s? înÅ£eleg ce fac, f?r? s? înÅ£eleg ce se întâmpl? cu noi, de ce am fost ursiÅ£i s? ne iubim f?r? s? ne iubim, de ce am fost ursiÅ£i s? ne c?ut?m f?r? s? ne întâlnim...

Sunt uneori st?ri care parc? îÅŸi pierd durata. Nu ÅŸtii - sau nu-Å£i aduci aminte - când au început, ce le-a dezl?nÅ£uit, cum se transform?. Åži totuÅŸi, din beatitudinea aceea turbure se desprinde uneori un cuvânt, un strig?t, o melodie sau m?car o singur? not? muzical?, care îÅ£i r?mâne necontenit prezent?, f?r? s? te mire precaritatea sau chiar nesemnificaÅ£ia ei.

I had a thought, on the way home from the rock field, that the things we don't know about a person are the things that make them human, and it made me feel sad to think that, but sad in that reassuring way that some sadness has, a sadness that says welcome home in twelve different languages.

Kako je ?udno to slijepo kretanje u nama, kako su ljudska tijela tajanstveni galvanski stupovi i kako se svi mi?emo po nekim mra?nim i neshvatljivim zakonima u svome mesu!

Kakva sablasna rije?: frajle! A ipak! Koliko je dubokih tajna pokopano u toj tako vulgarnoj rije?i, koju panonski foringaši izgovaraju, skupljaju?i pri tome pljuva?ku pod jezikom ga?enja i moralnoga prezira!

Eu não compreendo o amor — disse Holmes com tristeza. — Nunca aleguei compreender.

The door between what's known & unknown is a gift from the all knowing.

Mitchell Zuckoff

This is the nameless land, they say. To you, who for reasons unknowable glimpse here these words. Good people, do not mistake the terms of the agreement: Do not ask men for the story of the nameless land. Do not move lips and tongue in an imitation of the tongue of the nameless land. Do not treat as men those who are imprisoned in the nameless land.

One of the girls saw her, then did a double-take. Her eyes sparkled. Not a bright sparkle, but a dull, dark sparkle, like the twinkling of a lantern at the bottom of a deep well. Here's something fun, her eyes said. Here's something freakish. Let's play with it and see if we can make it cry.

Twin Peaks was my religion. Well, Twin Peaks and Christianity. But at present, Twin Peaks was winning. I loved God, but at the moment I was more obsessed with Bob and Dale Cooper and Audrey Horne.

One cell in its unspeakable complexity would be worth the worship and awe of the entire universe. And cells were everywhere, their miraculous ness diminished only by their ubiquity.

Aa, Eye, EE, Ou, Uh (Ay EAO - Oh Hail) Hidden God Repeat first part that begins "Guardians of the House etc." Return to the North 2. "I summon you, Headless One, Who created earth and heaven, Who created night and day, You who created light and darkness; You are Unas, the beautiful whom none has ever seen; You are Iabas; You are Iapos;

The world, dear Agnes, is a strange affair.

Monsieur, c'est trop d'honneur que vous me voulez faire; Mais l'amitié demande un peu plus de mystère, Et c'est assurément en profaner le nom Que de vouloir le mettre à toute occasion. Avec lumière et choix cette union veut naître; Avant que nous lier, il faut nous mieux connaître, Et nous pourrions avoir telles complexions, Que tous deux du marché nous nous repentirions.

Going back to Walter's house had been like visiting a cemetery where there were no tidy tombstones recording beginnings and endings but only question marks over the graves.

In the middle of the cemetery is a grassy plane, strangely vacant. There are no granite tombs or crumbling concrete, just a sun-washed treeless patch of green known as "No Man's Land." Here 1,500 unidentified bodies are buried. At one time, their skin burned with yellow fever; now they lie in a cool, dark place where long ago their arms and legs, hands and feet, were intertwined for eternity.

Being alive requires of us a relationsip with the mysterious, life-long experience of letting go.

hermetic world.

unspoken hangs like smoke in the rooms and corridors of Temple Alice. What is uttered are small asides, loaded with venom:

Love was a yeti

The Arboretum's overgrown grass rustled. The branches of an apple tree shook as though an animal had jumped from one to the next. A wind slid up my thighs, in the night, under my short nightgown. Crickets and cicadas made a sound like distant laughing children, the laugh track to a sitcom that didn't end. It was like the grass was full of tiny giggling babies. So beautiful, and creepy.

What I feel in that kitchen is the way humans are so flawed and so perfect, and I want to share bodies. You know your old dog? That's how I feel—I want to climb on people, breathe their breath, lick the inside of stranger's mouths. I don't know these two, but who do we ever know, really, past the skin? How do we get there?