Quotes About Mystery

seem to be the only person to have used the name Ben Christopher on a book. Strange, innit? Strange Embrace

Good evening," I said. "I suppose you're wondering why I summoned you all here.

I have been thinking about the girl I met last night in the mirror: dark on the marble-ivory white: glossy black hair: deep suspiring eyes in which one's glances sink because they are nervous, curious, turned to sexual curiosity.

after all the work of the philosophers on his soul and the doctors on his body, what can we really say we know about a man? That he is, when all is said and done, just a passage for liquids and solids, a pipe of flesh.

But then is not life itself a fairy-tale which we lose the power of apprehending as we grow? No matter.

One night he woke to the soughing of great wings and saw a bat-like creature with the head of a violin resting upon the bedrail.

If things were always what they seemed, how impoverished would be the imagination of man!

He always puzzled me —except when I had him in my arms.

Who invented the human heart, I wonder? Tell me and then show me the place where he was hanged.

In India when I was a boy they had great big green lizards there, and if you shouted or shot them their tails would fall off. There was only one boy in the school who could catch lizards intact. No one knew quite how he did it. He had a special soft way of going up to them, and he'd bring them back with their tails on. That strikes me as the best analogy I can give you. To try and catch your poem without its tail falling off.

Black is not sad... Black is poetic.

Stain my eyes as I may, on all sides all is black.

Why are they sad and glad and bad? I do not know, go ask your dad.

As much as I feel sad, I think that not knowing is what really bothers me.

It is always a sad thing to understand those who once were obscured by the mystery and intangibility of the thoughtlessly loved.

The moon has nothing to be sad about, Staring from her hood of bone. She is used to this sort of thing. Her blacks crackle and drag.

I'm sad that there no more mysterious places in the world.

A sob caught in my chest. I didn't even know what a gray was, other than a drab color. All I knew was that I was hungry all the time. And I knew, deep down, that it wasn't just for food.

What's her name? Claire, what's her name?

She was sad with an obscure sadness of which she had not the secret herself. There was in her whole person the stupor of a life ended but never commenced.

It is sad that unless you are born a god, your life,from its very beginning, is a mystery to you.

Love is like a magic trickYou know you are getting fooled, but still, you stand in lineAnd pay to see it again and again.

Knives are sharp, but are equally confusing.

Gravity explains the motions of the planets, but it cannot explain who sets the planets in motion.