Quotes About Mystery

Mystery is not merely a way of saying that reason has not yet completed its victory. It is the goal where reason arrives when it attains its perfection by becoming love.

Half of the things are as they seem. The other half, who knows. This has always been true.

You're something between a dream and a miracle.

Witch, scholar, poet, dreamer, and the rest...

The light is amber, the air still; the daylilies have folded in on themselves. Soon, the hooded blue of dusk will fall, followed by the darkness of night and the sky writing of the stars, indecipherable to us mortals, despite our attempts to force narrative upon them.

We're so far away from those stars

I tell you, I will never understand the mystery of love. A woman comes to a man because she wants only him; then she cannot bear the sound of air moving in and out of his nostrils. She cannot bear the sight of his shadow upon the pavement!

Everybody likes outlaws. Everybody wants to look at them, like they are in the zoo.

every person was like a box of magic:

Fate is a part of our lives. Another part is choice. But the biggest part is the mystery, the great unknowable, about which we feel so many things, including joy.

all of our lives, we long to know what our future will be. It is a mercy we do not know.

What do you mean no one knows where he is? Human beings don't just disappear. Not unless they've been abducted by aliens. But even then, isn't there some kind of crop circle left behind or something?

What do you mean no one knows where he is? Human beings don't just disappear. Not unless they've been abducted by aliens. But even then, isn't there some kind of crop circle left behind or something? Does this Ramsey Sage not have a crop circle? Because if he doesn't, then he's probably not been abducted by aliens, in which case, we'd have a good chance of finding him, I'd think.

figure out if he knew her from somewhere. But he didn't, she was sure, unless it was just in passing at the mall. She would have remembered a man like him. For a long, long time. And then she would have dreamed about him. A lot. Probably without clothes. On either of them.

She hurried down the stairs on the side of the carriage house, but when she rounded the corner and saw Max standing beside the roadster wiping his greasy hands on a rag, she stopped. She couldn't help herself. He just had a presence—or something—about him that made it impossible for her not to notice him. Be distracted by him. Respond to him. Succumb to him. What was it she had just been planning to do...?

he found himself wanting to learn more. About her brain and her bra.

She walked about with the rather fated expression you see in photographs of girls who have subsequently been murdered, but nothing had so far happened to her.

But surely love wouldn't get so much talked about if there were not something in it?

Oh, he might still be half-seas over, but he wasn't so bosky that he couldn't discern a feminine shape that begged to be explored- though she was obviously doing her best to hide it beneath the plain gown she wore. She might even be a proper bit, if it weren't for the path of ruined crockery in her wake. That spoke of an impulsive and passionate nature. A dangerous mix in a pretty miss that begged to be unleashed in a different way. Say, in a man's bed.

couldn't say what precisely

If you look closely enough, there are bloodstains.

Norman certainly thought so. There was something there, but it didn't have a dead-thing vibe. And Neil had heard it, too, so whatever was going on, Norman knew it didn't involve the supernatural. Suddenly, something leaped out in front of them. "You. Boy. You know who I am?" it wheezed. Norman and Neil both took a step backward. A hulking man stood hunched over with age and

abandoned since the sudden disappearance of the hamster last Tuesday) and the pink plastic pig that had been sliced down the middle

The problem with the dead is that they don't keep secrets. Eventually they tell on themselves.