Quotes About Mystery

No mind of a creature can attain Him.

Then they all surrounded the poop little animal and pulled out all his fur.

A man is like a novel: until the very last page you don't know how it will end. Otherwise it wouldn't be worth reading.

I looked silently at her lips. All women are lips, all lips. Some are pink and firmly round: a ring, a tender guardrail from the whole world. And then there are these ones: a second ago they weren't here, and just now — like a knife-slit — they are here, still dripping sweet blood.

They say there are flowers that bloom only once every hundred years. Why shouldn't there be some that bloom only once every thousand, every ten thousand years? Maybe we just haven't heard about them up to now because this very day is that once-in-a-thousand-years.

Who knows who you are... A person is a novel: you don't know how it will end until the very last page. Otherwise, it wouldn't be worth reading to the very end...

The moon hangs alien, heavy, like a lock on a door; the door is tightly shut. ("The North")

Ai bi?t ???c...Ng??i ta cÅ©ng gi?ng nhÆ° má»™t cu?n ti?u thuy?t: chÆ°a ??n trang cu?i thì chÆ°a bi?t k?t c?c s? ra sao. B?ng không thì Ä'âu Ä'áng ?? ??c...

Dicen que hay unas flores que sólo se abren y florecen cada cien años. Y ¿por qué no han de haber otras que florezcan una vez cada mil e incluso cada diez mil años? Quizá no lo hayamos sabido por la simple razón de que este «una vez cada mil años» acontece precisamente hoy.

Who knows who you really are? A person is like a novel: Up to the very last page you don't know how it's going to end. Otherwise, there'd be no point in reading....

Bir nokta, her ÅŸeyden daha fazla bilinmeyen içerir. Tüm yapmas? gereken k?p?rdamas?, az?c?k yerinden oynamas?d?r; binlerce deÄŸiÅŸik eÄŸriye, yüzlerce kat? biçime dönüÅŸebilir. K?p?rdamak istemiyorum... Korkuyorum. Neye dönüÅŸeceÄŸim?

Is it possible that that insanity called love and jealousy does exist, and not only in the idiotic books of the ancients? What seems most strange is that I, I! … Equations, formulae, figures, and suddenly this! I can't understand it, I can't!

Dicen que hay flores que sólo despuntan una vez cada cien años. ¿Y por qué no hay otras que florezcan cada mil o cada diez mil años? Tal vez hasta ahora no lo hayamos sabido por la sencilla razón de que esa vez-cada-mil-años toca precisamente hoy.

Omul e ca un roman: pân? la ultima pagin? nu È™tii cum se va termina. Altfel nici n-ar merita s? citeÈ™ti...

A human being is like a novel: until the last page you don't know how it will end. Or it wouldn't be worth reading.

A person is like a novel: Up to the very last page you don't know how it's going to end. Otherwise, there'd be no point in reading.

A person is a novel: you don't know how it will end until the very last page. Otherwise, it wouldn't be worth reading to the very end.

She was looking down at something; her eyes were lowered, like blinds. I thought suddenly of how you walk along the avenue around 22:00 hours, and among the brightly lit cages there are some dark ones, with the blinds lowered...What was going on there in her head, behind her blinds? ... Then she raised the blinds, looked up...

They say there are flowers that bloom only once in a hundred years. Why not suppose the existence of flowers that bloom only once a thousand years? We may have known nothing about them until now only because today is the "once in a thousand years"?

a point contains more unknowns than anything else; it need but stir, move, and it may turn into thousands of curves, thousands of bodies. I

Quem sabe como tu és? O homem é como os romances: só na última página é que se sabe o final

Who knows who you are . . . A person is a novel: you don't know how it will end until the very last page. Otherwise, it wouldn't be worth reading to the very end

Kdoví… ÄŒlovÄ›k je jako román: do poslední stránky nevíÅ¡, jak skon?í. Jinak by ho ani nestálo za to ?íst…

Man is like a novel: up to the last page one does not know what the end will be. It would not be worth reading otherwise