Quotes About Mystery

A black cat crossed my path, and I stopped to dance around it widdershins and to sing the rhyme, Ou va-ti mistigri? Passe sans faire de mai ici.

Horticulture is like magic. Endlessly fascinating, sometimes infuriating.

Canst thou bind the sweet influences of Pleiades, or loose the bands of Orion

For the next couple of weeks she held Peter like a secret in her heart, lying right under her necklace. I could see him written on her face, and Tik Tok, too, seemed to catch shadows of him, because he'd stop to stare at her, puzzled, as if he'd just seen the boy flit across her eyes-seen the ghost of the kiss lingering for a second on the skin of her neck before disappearing.

Do you think magic exists if it can be explained?

For years after my father left us for Belladonna, I had looked for him... the last time someone had seen them, they were living on a duck's back.

We don't know where Millie went, and we don't know if we'll see her again, but there's no reason not to hope. We don't know the answers, and maybe that's a nice thing.

So many stars are popping out above us it seems you could almost dip your fingers up there and come out with a handful of stars.

She actually liked the idea that she might be made out of stars.

Others wonder, if the Bogey isn't wearing his pants, who is?

I like to think that nothing's final, and that everyone gets to be together even when it looks like they don't, that it all works out even when all the evidence seems to say something else, that you and I are always young in the woods, and that I'll see you sometime again, even if it's not with any kind of eyes I know of or understand.

Pauline let out a loud groan. "Everybody thinks everybody is the killer. The lady at the 7-Eleven says it's that guy Sam from the Gill Creek Maritime Museum, because he has sinister eyebrows. I think it's Liam." Liam stared into the fire. "I did it with s'more sticks.

he just seemed—not so much like a dad but like any person who didn't have things figured out. Maybe the world is a mystery to everyone, even the smartest people or the oldest people, even

The quartz rocks stared at her as if they, too, wanted to go wherever she was headed. Once she was dressed she pulled the smallest one off the shelf and let it hitch a ride in her in her pocket, for luck.

Something happened last night that was so strange I almost think I imagined it.

Not only is the universe stranger than we think. It's stranger than we can think.

The English girl scared her more than any other creature in the forest.

Extraordinary things are always hiding in places people never think to look.

She once told him about the mysterious trampled-down places found in fields, which the peasants superstitiously called werewolves' nests. Coming across one of these sites, she fell to her knees and buried her face in the flattened yellow grasses, hoping to inhale the odor of a werewolf, a csordásfarkas. As if his scent was a charm. She smelled nothing but hay burned by the afternoon sun.

The fig tree grows its flowers strangely inside out, concealed within the soft interior of the fruit. Erszébet imagines the fig's hidden fairy weight of seeds, grown in sweetness that is also a darkness. Like treasure in a cave.

You are Shenkt? I expected more." "Pray to whatever god you believe in that you never see more." "I do not pray." Shenkt leaned close, and whispered in his ear. "I advise you to start.

Few indeed are those who get a choice. We do as we are told. We stand or fall beside those who were born near to us, who look as we do, who speak the same words, and all the while we know as little of the reasons why as does the dust we return to.

That's the trouble with answers. They're never as exciting as the questions, somehow.

As a child, when I first heard the story of Creation, I'd closed my eyes and pictured the earth as a ball rolling off the palm of God and into dark space, then drifting around until it found its home in sunny orbit. Never perfect, but ever spinning, and holding on to her course, despite it all.