Quotes About Mystery

I am now a killer and an immortal, inorganic, an intellectual stranger.

Green as the inside of your thoughts where you can't go, they're too deep.

The dead people want to know why everything turned out this way.

And why was I (so) fated?

Cloaking what? A further horror.

I want to touch a phantom, it's the grey dove of truth

Is there always a further horror?

It is a miracle she said in the sense that there's no explanation

Sob a mensagem mais evidente está outra, que se refere ao tenpo (Crono, o nome grego de Saturno). O tempo é tanto velho como novo. Oculto na eternidade está o frescor do agora; oculto no agora, está o mistério da eternidade.

The first whisper of stars is a faint thing a candle sound, too far away to read by...

little distant sounds of shut-away singing

it is always midnight in those pools

the village is lost in its veils a few dreams lean over the lanes like nettles

and bodiless black lace woods in which one to another a songbird asks is it light is it light not quite

and working with the same bewitched slightly off-hand look as the sea

three people in raincoats losing their tracks in the snow walking as far as the edge and back again with the trees exhausted tapping at the sky

The glorious mystery is that listening for God holds power whether or not anything is heard.

All around me, the night lived its secret life.

Mijn haar... dat is Alice' haar! Ik weet het zeker. Maar hoe... hoe zijn ze daaraan gekomen? William moet een lok hebben afgeknipt en hem hebben bewaard...

Een wilde kat gleed zachtvoetig door de bosjes, een vreemd uitziende kat met een korte krulstaart. Hij bleef staan en staarde naar het meisje, met intense gele ogen, en glipte toen weer door het struikgewas weg. Het meisje kwam overeind en ging staan, haar gezicht straalde bovenaardse verrukking uit.

The weather was clear and still, and the countless stars opened above them, seeming like brilliant cold fruits that Maerad could simply pick out of the sky.

stubbornly unsolved, and of the laborious and ongoing task of decipherment and translation. For the curious amateur

Love is one of the true mysteries,' he said at last. 'The truest and the deepest of all. One thing, Maerad: to love is never wrong. It may be disastrous; it may never be possible; it may be the deepest agony. But it is never wrong.

You see aright. I am both Queen and Elidhu, here and there, wildfire and hearthfire, forgetting and remembrance. But do no yet speak of this, for men are impatient with such things and do not brook contradiction.