Quotes About Mystery

There was no satisfying explanation for why Andrew [Haswell Green] and Samuel [Tilden] found themselves falling into a friendship. It was simply a matter of attraction, and instinct, and need, as it always is. Those factors and a hundred tiny, meaningless conversations that gradually accumulated into layers of familiarity.

Volevo chiudere gli occhi, o coprirli con una mano, e al tempo stesso volevo guardare, guardare a sazietà e tentare di comprendere con lo sguardo quella cosa incomprensibile, lì, davanti a me, quel vuoto per il pensiero umano.

He that would keep a secret must keep it secret that he hath a secret to keep.

He's a ghost, not a carnival magician. -Benny Imura

And to Conrad, it seemed as though he had entered some strange world beyond our own, where nothing was as it appears, and anything could be possible.

There are all sorts of monsters, Mister Crowley. Not all of them cast spells or have fangs.

Sam," he said, "I knew what you were when you walked into my office." "Why? Because Cricket told you?" "Nope." "Then how? I didn't wear my 'I'm A Werewolf, Ask Me How' button today.

Harken craned forward, but he couldn't see the entrance ladder. That battered blue box was in the way. He tried to read the writing on the door, but the light was too dim. But, in an odd sort of way, the box was comforting.

We name and talk of a problematic 'transvestism,' the desire to dress in the clothes of the other sex. We do not usually name and speak of the strong desire to dress in the clothes of one's own sex. But why would most of us feel intense anxiety at dressing publicly in the clothes of the other sex? Does not our fervid desire to dress in the clothes of our own sex suggest a mystery to be explored?

They all watched silently as she walked toward her cabin, but when she got to the doorway she stopped and turned around. She stood for a moment with her chin lifted and her eyes closed. What on earth was she doing? Granada wondered.

Imagination is what convinces us that there's more to the world than meets the eye. And isn't that the first principle of faith?

Now there's a good course title, 'The Mystery in Art History.' It even rhymes.

You speak to Quattrocchi and he's dead. You visit Étienne Chaudron and he's dead—" "I don't know anything about that!" I bolted up, knocking my chair to the floor.

The column hung above the middle of the pentacle, bubbling ever upward against the ceiling like the cloud of an erupting volcanoe. There was a barely perceptible pause. Then two yellow staring eyes materialized in the heart of the smoke. Hey, it was his first time. I wanted to scare him. And it did, too.

It wasn't the body," he said. "I've seen worse things in our fridge.

More ghosts have been created in bedrooms than anywhere else.

Here we go," the Skull sighed. "Cue crisis!

Do you remember," George went on, "what we found in the tunnels beneath Aickmere's? Aside from a massive pile of human bones." "I found Lucy," Lockwood said.

In the meantime," he said, "There are ghosts to foil and lives to save. But right now, it's a lovely evening and I'm going for a stroll. That was the other thing I'd wanted, to see if you'll come with me?

What could it be? Not a date, surely—the boy's got eyes.

I opened my mouth to speak – but before I could do so, the ghost gave its response. It was brief, pungent, and to the point. I passed it on. Lockwood started. 'Charming! Hold on – was that from you or the ghost?' 'The ghost, of course.' George whistled. 'I'm not sure I should write that down.

She's her?' - Lucy 'Exactly. Penelope Fittes is Marissa Fittes. They're one and the same person.' - The Skull

A window to the Other Side.

Holly was staring at me. "Who were you talking to just then?" "No one! You!" "I don't believe you." "Look, does it really matter right now?" "If we're going to be working together, Lucy...." "Oh, hell! All right! I'll tell you! It's an evil haunted skull that lives in my backpack! Happy, now?