Quotes About Mystery

I've read enough Stephen King books to know that you don't go fooling around with the supernatural.

Stoneybrook, Connecticut.

What if it was someone else, someone who remembered something awful about the last Halloween masquerade, twenty-eight years ago?

the Bobbsey Twins

I needed to know more. Call it my detective's instinct. (Not for nothing has Abby nicknamed me Agatha Kristy!)

What an interesting place, Richard

You wrote the scary letters!

Deb Cooper was missing.

Time meaningless for you exploring the mysterious regions of mountains, lakes, jungles within a blanket territory. I pull my eye through a keyhole, on a string the days are declared; thoughts are switchbacks uncontrolled.

The fact that the universe is illuminated where you stand—that your thoughts and moods and sensations have a qualitative character in this moment—is a mystery, exceeded only by the mystery that there should be something rather than nothing in the first place.

sacred explosions"?

Sorcery," said Idris, leering horribly. The soldier backed away hastily.

The sacred is in odd locations.

Who are you, O noble one?' asked Gaam, 'My friend the centauress has walked these lands many times, but she has never seen one as mighty as you.' 'Then heed my words, dwarf,'--the Kol-dwellers all flinched and looked at Gaam, but he was unmoved--'and tell thy woman-horse I am Sir Cyr, Guardian of the Bridge.' 'Sir what?' asked Gaam. 'Sir Cyr.' 'Never mind. (...)

A world of magic,' said the Civilian, 'is not a world governed by rules. Of course, there are always rules, but where magic exists, these rules create themselves and change often. (...)

A secret in his mouth, is like a wild bird put into a cage; whose door no sooner opens, but 'tis out.

ABDITIVE  (A'BDITIVE)   adj.[from abdo, to hide.] That which has the power or quality of hiding.Dict.  

To go and see one druidical temple is only to see that it is nothing, for there is neither art nor power in it; and seeing one is quite enough.

And all who heard should see them there, And all should cry, Beware! Beware! His flashing eyes, his floating hair! Weave a circle round him thrice, And close your eyes with holy dread, For he on honey-dew hath fed, And drunk the milk of Paradise.

A sight to dream of, not to tell!

The frost performs its secret ministry, Unhelped by any wind.

Weave a circle round him thrice, And close your eyes with holy dread, For he on honey-dew hath fed, And drank the milk of Paradise.

They groaned, they stirred, they all uprose, Nor spake, nor moved their eyes; It had been strange, even in a dream, To have seen those dead men rise.

By thy long grey beard and glittering eye, Now wherefore stopp'st thou me?