Quotes About Mystery

Müzik öyle yücedir ki, hiçbir ak?l s?rr?na eremez; müzikten, her ÅŸeye egemen olan ve kimsenin hesab?n? tutamayaca?? bir etki yay?l?r.

Des Menschen Duft an und für sich war ihm auch gleichgültich. Des Menschen Duft konnte er hinreichend gut mit Surrogaten imitieren. Was er begehrte, war der Duft gewisser Menschen: jener äußerst seltenen Menschen nämlich, die Liebe inspirieren. Diese waren seine Opfer.

a guard was like a sphinx. He functioned not by some deed, but rather by his mere bodily presence.

I certainly wanted to maintain some sense of mystery about Picard and that's why we never allowed certain situations to fully evolve, like the relationship between Picard and Beverly Crusher.

But perhaps we ask too much of him. Perhaps he really was only a god.

His lordship has something

Magic is not the solution to every problem, but it sure helps in eleven out of ten cases.

Things started to fly around the room. I don't mean little things like books and lamps. I'm talking the refrigerator, the stove, and the couch. It was like a deadly game of dodge ball. I

Magic isn't just fun, it's an adventure. Then again, so's falling off a cliff.

I believe in things that go bump in the night, but I don't believe in coincidence.

The priest took a step back and pulled out his crucifix. It had a disguised gun barrel in the top.

you ever wondered why socks disappear in the dryer?" I nodded, offering, "The spinning of the dryer combined with the intense heat tears open small holes in the fabric of space and time. Occasionally a sock falls through and ends up in the dresser of some dinosaur." Not everyone agreed with my idea. "The way I see it is the socks mutate into wire coat hangers which then somehow appear in my closet," Dion surmised.

I wanted to cry so bad, but my tears are inside. A blindfold keeps them there. I can't see today. Patti, I don't know anything.

He picks the lock of her dreams with her own hairpin.

That's the one with the magic, he would say.

I dreamed I was somewhere that was also nowhere.

It had started with the moon, inaccessible poem that she was.

No moon or stars, real or imagined.

a black granite cube containing only the character mu

I thought to myself that he contained a whole universe that I had yet to know

We are guided by roses, the scent of a page.

I was busy thinking about the mystery of expanding network of seemingly unasawerable questions.

Most often the alchemy that produces a poem or a work of fiction is hidden within the work itself, if not embedded in the coiling ridges of the mind.

It had started with the moon, inaccessible poem that it was.