Quotes About Mystery

she danced in the shadowy moonlight, and it felt good to be bad for once, really bad and get away with it, good to be someone else.

There are one hundred glow-stars on my bedroom ceiling. (...) Glow-stars are strange. They make the ceiling disappear.

I can be black magic Or boring as hell.

Pictures that don't make sense are magic. they hold balls of light covered in millions of spells swirled into a cell.

Thereby He in effect declared that only such as were willing to be crucified with Him should be saved by His death; nay, that willingness to bear a cross was indispensable to the right understanding of the doctrine of salvation through Him. It is as if above the door of the school in which the mystery of redemption was to be taught, He had inscribed the legend: Let no man who is unwilling to deny himself, and take up his cross, enter here.

stars, Where did such anguish come from?" And the stars tell him, The stars tell him everything.

books were still to me as they had been when I found them: the only magic.

And then she leaned back her head with the faintest smile and, tapping her chin, asked, Are you in love with him, this mystery composer? How can I be? I asked in return. I don't even know him. Almost every opera is about this, she said, her smile growing. Love before first sight.

All thirsts are without explanations, as are all loves.

Poison, in my experience, is always hidden; it seems to me we never know its color.

I was now both the secret and the keeper of it, but the idea that I could not know what is was I served, nor why, nor who, became nearly unendurable all at once

I was now both the secret and the keeper of it, but the idea that I could not know what it was I served, nor why, nor who, became nearly unendurable all at once

The black sky just kept assuming deeper shades of black until, suddenly, it had blacked itself out entirely.

The imbroglio of inky cloud swirling overhead contained nimbostratus, cumulonimbus and Lord knows what else

It was a curious box with rounded corners, made of a dark leather that had been beautifully tooled. On either side, done in gold leaf, was a striking design in the form of a double star, with each star having eight points.

The Bean house stands empty. All through the mountains people whisper of it, and shake their heads.

In verità, qual è l'uomo che osa dire: "Questo è passato e quello è ancora da venire, questa è realtà e quello è un sogno, questa è una cosa e quella è un'altra"! Ma ogni tanto un lembo del velo che nasconde i misteri della vita si muove, e uno sguardo portentoso ci è concesso, dietro le apparenze che ci circondano.

Like metaphors and works of art, the people who matter to us are all, so far as we are concerned, inexhaustible. They always remain a step beyond the furthest point our knowledge of them has reached—though only if, and as long as, they still matter to us.

Woman's at best a contradiction still.

Extremes in nature equal ends produce In man they join to some mysterious use.

The people's voice is odd,It is, and it is not, the voice of God.

So Man, who here seems principal alone, Perhaps acts second to some sphere unknown. Touches some wheel, or verges to some goal, 'Tis but a part we see, and not a whole.

All nature is but art, unknown to thee.

So Man, who here seems principal alone, Perhaps acts second to some sphere unknown. Touches some wheel, or verges to some goal, 'This but a part we see, and not a whole.