Quotes About Mystery

What, they had asked Meyer, did he do for a living? "Business," he replied. "What kind of business?" came the question. "My business," came his answer, and Lansky absolutely declined to elaborate further.

Modern science cannot explain why the laws of physics are exactly balanced for animal life to exist.

Amazingly when you add life and consciousness to the equation you can actually explain some of the biggest puzzles of science.

Our science fails to recognize those special properties of life that make it fundamental to material reality. This view of the world - biocentrism - revolves around the way a subjective experience, which we call consciousness, relates to a physical process. It is a vast mystery and one that I have pursued my entire life.

I stood among the heaps of the dead and I knew — no, I felt that death is only a sound we make to signify the Thing we do not know.

Because it is gone you cannot say it will not return; even though you may say it has never yet returned-you cannot say that it will not. It is blasphemy to say a bit of metal has destroyed life, just as it is presumptuous to say that because life has disappeared it has been destroyed. I stood among the heaps of the dead and I knew-no, I felt that death is only a sound we make to signify the Thing we do not know.

The road simply ended. No cul-de-sac. No sign like the ones they had seen before: "Private Property. No Trespassing." Or "No Motorized Vehicles Beyond This Point." Just road...then trees.

If I guess your secret, will you tell me if I'm right?" His father laughed but didn't answer.

David!" Xander yelled, because he had to yell something. His eyes snapped back to the figure in the upstairs doorway, but it was gone. "What do you want?" David asked. "I...were you just upstairs?" "I haven't looked up there yet." "But I just saw you up there.

The old man said, " The house is talking to us." "What's it saying?" David said. Jesse said, "It's hungry.

Little boy and little girl.I don't know how old. Sweetest family in the world, of you listen to the old folks around here." Xander was stunned. "And nobody knows what happened to them?" "Some say they high-tailed it to Europe." She raised her eyebrows at him. "Most believe he took them somewhere and killed them. Then took his own life." Dad forced a smile. "Just old rumors," he said.

Everything, as Mr. Yul Brynner used to tell us six nights a week and Saturday matinees, is a puzzlement.

Some places speak distinctly. Certain dank gardens cry aloud for a murder; certain old houses demand to be haunted; certain coasts are set apart for shipwrecks.

Some places speak distinctly. Certain dark gardens cry aloud for a murder; certain old houses demand to be haunted; certain coasts are set apart for shipwreck.

"What is the Black Spot, Captain?"… "That's a summons, mate."

I have a little shadow that goes in and out with me,And what can be the use of him is more than I can see.He is very, very like me from the heels up to the head;And I see him jump before me, when I jump into my bed.

Fifteen men on the Dead Man's Chest—Yo-ho-ho, and a bottle of rum!Drink and the devil had done for the rest—Yo-ho-ho, and a bottle of rum!

The strangest things are there for me,Both things to eat and things to see,And many frightening sights abroadTill morning in the land of Nod.

Went with one (Assassin) for a while... lovely lass, but she couldn't keep her mouth shut, even in bed. Sometimes I wonder if any profession really guards its secrets as closely as they claim.

For the believer in divine creation, the open question of the Mystery of Being is like an open wound. It stings and gapes, and the believer cannot rest till it be healed up, closed up, smeared with the soothing balm of an answer, even if his doctrine be a sophisticated one like Aquinas's or that of the latest Liberal Protestant theologian.

The closer she looked at those windows, the lovelier and more irresistible the house became.

Something was in the air tonight, and whatever it might be, it was keeping sleep at bay.

to catch his breath again, he merely said 'gun', and it was then that I took note of the stain on the drooping folds of the pareu wrapped around his waist. In the moonlight, it had at first appeared to be dirt or perhaps red wine—though the Samoans have no taste for wine—but its crust and gleam now revealed it to be dried blood. A sight that you and I, my friend, know all too well.

any other. The world had been