Quotes About Mystery

Of this much we can be sure: if we love the creation, we will learn from it. In The Brothers Karamazov Dostoevski counsels, "Love all God's creation, the whole and every grain of sand in it. Love every leaf, every ray of God's light. Love the animals, love the plants, love everything. If you love everything, you will perceive the divine mystery in things. Once you perceive it, you will begin to comprehend it better every day."4

Prayer catapults us onto the frontier of the spiritual life.

There are desires we haven't named yet, loves so impossible they have to be true. — Richard Jackson, from "Incompleteness," The Heart as Framed: New and Selected Poems (Press 53, 2022)

stars that turn slowly off each dawn so that we begin to see how many things can go on living without us, — Richard Jackson, from "Triptych," Broken Horizons: Poems (Press 53, 2018)

There are times when I feel you might be searching for me, when I can read what is written on the far sides of stars. — Richard Jackson, from "Alternate Endings," Resonance (The Ashland Poetry Press, 2010)

And this morning, / above us, invisible stars the daylight hides begin to map for us, / secretly, new paths our hearts had seemed to despair of,–those /vapor trails that linger longer than they are supposed to, the wake / of the boat that echoes perhaps endlessly, shore to shore,– if only / we can believe in them without ever seeing where they are. — Richard Jackson, from "Invisible Star Maps," Broken Horizons (Press 53, 2018)

To me everything is supernatural.

Young man, there are some things in the world so profane that their only real value is in not knowing about them.

Death, like birth, is a secret of nature." Only with birth you get a blanket and a bottle. You get a blanket with death too, but they call it a shroud and everyone else gets the bottle.

Maybe that's why Heaven is silent and God doesn't speak to man anymore. Heavenly intervention would blow the point spread.

Up ahead, Donut Universe shines like the Virgin Mary doing barrel rolls over Lourdes, so I head over.

I close my eyes. "I keep coming back to this one thought: that I know everything about monsters and nothing about people.

Beautiful. Now I have to burrow like a groundhog into Mason's basement to the same room where he summoned those things to take me Downtown. Nothing can possibly go wrong with this plan.

Why don't you tell me about why you're here?" says Ray. Before I can answer, Carlos says. "Despite appearances, Stark here is dead." Ray cocks his head and looks at me. "I wouldn't have guessed," says Ray. "You wear death well.

Are all these from dead men?" Steinmetz leaned against the cabin door. "They're not all men's, and yes.

Vidocq turns in a slow circle. "My God. It really is a room full of doors." "Thirteen. What did you expect?" "I assumed the doors were a metaphor. Each door would be a way to describe a different state of being." "No. It's just a lot of doors.

Exactly. I'm the man who makes things happy behind the scenes, but no one knows. I'm Dr. Mabuse." "That's great. Just remember: Dr. Mabuse ended up in the nuthouse." Kasabian makes a face. "Always with the negative waves, Moriarty." I shake my head. "You aren't Donald Sutherland." "And you aren't Clint Eastwood, so just hold the damn book while I finish.

Yes. The ritual will take place in the crypt under the church." "When?" "Vespers." "Sunset.

No. You open it." "You think I put a bomb in there? Maybe snakes? Maybe a snake bomb?

I knock on the door and Flicker yells, "Come in." It's dark inside. The only illumination comes from an old Philco Predicta TV. She's watching The Tingler with someone or something else. I mean, it's person shaped but completely black. No face or anything else. It's like a kind of human void next to her on the battered red sofa.

I came back and the place was broken into. I think by a guy named Parker. He's another magician. Some magic things were missing." "What kind of things?" "A guy. Part of a guy, really.

They weren't a particularly bright people and disappeared along with their island in a volcanic mishap.

I look around the room for anything that might give me a clue to who might have done it. But who am I kidding? I'm not a real detective. Maybe if the killer dropped an eight-by-ten and their Social Security card I could figure things out, but the room looks just how I remember it, and Gentry's door was locked.

Whatever happened, he wasn't just Mason anymore. He was Mason and something else. Like God's older brother, who takes God's money, steals his car, and fucks his girlfriend. That's Mason now. A guy who isn't afraid to pants God...