Quotes About Mystery

As of now, string theorists have no explanation of why there are three large dimensions as well as time, and the other dimensions are microscopic. Proposals about that have been all over the map.

One step at a time, over the years, as I sought to plumb the mystery of suffering (which cannot be plumbed), I began to see that there is a sense in which everything is a gift. Even my widowhood.

I'm not afraid of death. That is the greatest mystery of all. That'll be it, that one. But it is all a race against time.

Secret to time is beyond our reason.

I'm fascinated by the fact that we can't grasp anything about time.

It's like . . . time is flowing backward. We're caveman archeologists in the ruins of the future.

Longing is the core of mystery. Longing itself brings the cure. The only rule is, suffer the pain. Your desires must be disciplined And what you want to happen in time, sacrificed.

Time will bring to light whatever is hidden it will cover up and conceal what is now shining in splendor.

This land, although not my native land, Will be remembered forever. And the sea's lightly iced, Unsalty water. The sand on the bottom is whiter than chalk, The air is heady, like wine, And the rosy body of the pines Is naked in the sunset hour. And the sunset itself on such waves of ether That I just can't comprehend Whether it is the end of the day, the end of the world, Or the mystery of mysteries in me again.

And it seemed to me that there were fires Flying till dawn without number And I never found out things-those Strange eyes of his-what colour? Everything trembling and singing and Were you my enemy or my friend, Winter was it or summer?

A land not mine, still forever memorable, the waters of its ocean chill and fresh. Sand on the bottom whiter than chalk, and the air drunk, like wine, late sun lays bare the rosy limbs of the pinetrees. Sunset in the ethereal waves: I cannot tell if the day is ending, or the world, or if the secret of secrets is inside me again.

She must be found for all that," said he, "and shall, if I have to send out Q." "Q?" "An agent of mine who is a living interrogation point; so we call him Q, which is short for query.

The darkness ahead was not impenetrable.

It was his very carelessness that she had initially found so attractive, as though to snag his attention for even a moment was a sign

Death is so strange, so mysterious, so sad, that we want to blame someone for it. And it was easy to blame me. Besides, when people wonder how I survived being accused of killing my mother, none of them realizes that watching her die was many, many times worse. And knowing I could have killed her was nothing compared to knowing I could not save her.

Gilbert, what is the matter with you?—why are you so changed? It is a very indiscreet question, I know,' she hastened to add: 'perhaps a very rude one—don't answer it if you think so—but I hate mysteries and concealments.

She stared in shock. There was nobody there!

A dark imagination is, perhaps, more appealing before you know anything about darkness.

Little bundle of contradictions

Alles is niet zo erg dan ontdekt te worden.

Liebe, was ist Liebe? Ich glaube, daß Liebe etwas ist, was sich eigentlich nicht in Worte fassen lässt. (S.197)

Whenever I get my period (and that's only been three times), I have the feeling that in spite of all the pain, discomfort and mess, I'm carrying around a sweet secret. So even though it's a nuisance, in a certain way I'm always looking forward to the time when I'll feel that secret inside me once again.

I didn't need to understand the hypostatic unity of the Trinity; I just needed to turn my life over to whoever came up with redwood trees.

I do not at all understand the mystery of grace—only that it meets us where we are but does not leave us where it found us.