Quotes About Mystery

Eat. Sleep. Exercise. Thirst for revenge. That was what he did for three more days. Alone. On the twenty-sixth day, the door opened.

close his eyes again. "What're you

They're eating her," Bryson whispered, and Michael realized it was the creepiest thing he'd ever said.

Michael didn't know how or when it ended.

Thomas still didn't understand why she was being so touchy with him.

They now knew they were being tested somehow, put through WICKED's trials.

And how did we get here?" Bryson added. "What happened to that town we were in? Where are we? And while we're at it, where can I get a burger?

When neither Tick nor anyone else made a move, Jane stopped. Her body stiffened, and some kind of unspoken warning seemed to flow from her, back at them like a misty spray of poison.

Even before he got there, he could read the words printed on the ribbon, black on orange. THE SAFE HAVEN

But then their laughter was cut off by a strange sound. Something Mark hadn't heard in over a year, and hadn't expected to hear ever again. The sound of engines in the sky.

Thomas remembered the envelope in his pocket, a thing he'd almost forgotten about until now. His fingers twitched to pull it out and read it. No one said anything. Newt's expression darkened.

Newt shushed them again. "That's not bloody half of it," he said, then pointed down into the Box. "I think she's dead.

WICKED is good. And then she was gone.

The promos with all of the beautiful women probably attracted some men, but the mystery story line is pretty cool. It's got that dark edge, and people will watch anything funny.

Can there be nothing but what we are able to understand and explain as to means, mode, and accomplishment? This would be a poverty-stricken world if it knew nothing but what man can explain and expound. Shall it be that because we cannot do a thing, we shall say it cannot be done, even by a higher power?

The secret of the Lord is with them that fear him; and he will show them his covenant.'—Psalms 25:14.

Cherchez la femme, Bucky. Remember that.

Whenever we make a decision about something, most of us want to be sure, beyond any doubt, of what is absolutely true. That will never happen spiritually. We're talking about God, and there is no way you can get every question about him answered. If you could fathom everything that there is to know about God, he'd be no bigger than your mind—no larger than your intellect—and that would be a small God. The goal isn't to get every answer, but enough answers.

We're actually really lucky that [physics] works, because no one knows why the thoughts in our heads should relate to the fundamental workings of the universe.

There are two kinds of geniuses: the 'ordinary' and the 'magicians'. An ordinary genius is a fellow whom you and I would be just as good as, if we were only many times better. There is no mystery as to how his mind works. Once we understand what they've done, we feel certain that we, too, could have done it. It is different with the magicians. Even after we understand what they have done it is completely dark. Richard Feynman is a magician of the highest calibre. -- Mark Kac

you chose someone who was an impenetrable mystery, but whose elusiveness did not tug at you; their distance gave you space to breathe and abide in a sphere of possibility, whereas the gravitational panic he felt for Blake was a precarious compound that would darken and decompose until it had burned way the surface of the earth and killed everything it touched.

Nothing is avowed to exist nowadays unless it can be bought or sold or measured by scientists. Why should artists have to acknowledge the complete supremacy of materialism? Must everything mysterious be exploded or all unaccountable things explained away? And if so, what is gained? Plain men drudging in a world of plain things. That's not the world I know and it's one I've no wish to know.

and there is no one to whom you can look for an explanation of why they are doing it, no one to whom you can go up and take him by the lapels and shake him and say What the fuck are you doing? The entire thing had been done by dead men. Who done it? Noman done it.

The truth is, all of life is a grand, blooming ambiguity.