Quotes About Mystery

I also don't trust Caribou anymore. They're out there, on the tundra, waiting... Something's going down. I'm right about this.

Sketchy: I'm no stranger to stoner logic.

Girl-Warrior was lonely For the poetry-talk of the Old Ones. They spoke in metaphor, A way of language that alerted her imagination To the presence of mystery Where there was always a light on in the mica windows Of her soul's house Where knowledge did not depend on words Of faulty human languages.

To imagine the spirit of poetry is much like imagining the shape and size of the knowing. It is a kind of resurrection light; it is the tall ancestor spirit who has been with me since the beginning, or a bear or a hummingbird. It is a hundred horses running the land in a soft mist, or it is a woman undressing for her beloved in firelight. It is none of these things. It is more than everything.

Time and how are the mysterious elements of any life.

Sometimes it is like facing the dreamer who knows the you of blood and stars—

There is a field of talking blood that I have not been able to reach, not even with knives, not yet.

How mysterious it is, to be in love. For you can be in love with one who knows nothing of you. Perhpas our greatest happinesses spring from such longings-being in love with one who is oblivious of you.

such speculation is like staring into the hot white sun. you know the sun is there but you can't see a thing.

Fiction that adds up, that suggests a logical consistency, or an explanation of some kind, is surely second-rate fiction; for the truth of life is its mystery.

unless it was enough for these worshipers to bask in the knowledge that, though invisible to them and in every way inaccessible to them, the swarthy handsome Ex-Athlete and the beautiful Blond Actress might at that very moment be coupling like Shiva and Shakti, unmaking and making the Universe?

The Playwright had long been fascinated by the strange mercurial personality of the Actor. What is acting. and why do we respond to great acting as we do? We know that an actor is acting and yet - we wish to forget that an actor is acting, and in the presence of talented actors we quickly do forget. This is a mystery, a riddle. How can we forget the actor acts? Is the actor acting on our behalf? Is the subtext of the actor's acting always and forever our own buried (and denied) acting?

O.K. he's crazy. But he's a saint too. He scares me, I don't like him. He scares me. What the hell-he knows. Yeah? Why? What does he know? --Things most people'd have to die and go to Hell for, to know.

Out of obscurity I came. To obscurity I can return.

The Bog Kingdom. Bidding him enter! Ah, enter! There, all wishes are fulfilled. The more forbidden, the more delicious.

We see the shadows of things, not the things themselves . . . We are forced to imagine what the writer doesn't reveal.

For it seemed (though why it seemed so, no one knew) that everything began on that night. And, once begun, it could not be stopped.

Secrets of the adult universe, forbidden for children to know: how beauty and suffering are intertwined.

I think we are all cats with nine lives, or even more. We must rejoice in our elusive catness.

I am infatuated with the private life, and with anonymity; perhaps even invisibility.

you had to have a deep, mysterious soul to want to destroy yourself. The shallower you are, the safer. Colborne

Love is what can't be helped. When it waxes, and when it wanes. Love is what happens when you've been looking another way. Love is that sensation of something on the back of your neck, tell yourself it's nothing, a strand of hair, at last you touch it and discover it's an insect—you cast off with a curse.

Three days later on October 29, 1959, the Pontiac registered in the name of Niles Tignor would be discovered, gas tank near-empty, keys on the floorboards beneath the front seat, in a parking lot close by the Greyhound bus station in Rome, New York.

The mysteries of the female sex! We men can never hope to fathom your depths, but only try not to drown in them.