Quotes About Mystery

you-know-who." Amy

They did surgery on us, probably when we were babies! They cut us open and put some kind of chip inside

Why anybody would eat something with a name like "pulled pork" is a mystery to me.

only nobody knows about it but us.

Shhh," her brother whispered. "I think we're on the yacht." She got shakily to her feet. The deck pitched slightly.

Does any one know where the love of God goes When the waves turn the minuted to hours

Nothing human is finally calculable; even to ourselves we are strange.

That's why Priscus is wisest of all: silence cannot be judged. Silence masks all things or no thing. Only Priscus can tell us what his silence conceals, but since he won't, we suspect him great.

They say that to know oneself is to know all there is that is human. But of course no one can ever know himself. Nothing human is fully calculable; even to ourselves we are strange.

She could not get enough of the sights and the sounds the rest of us take for granted. The Gingerbread Man on Broadway particularly intrigued her as he ran by, coat-tails streaming in the wind, pockets bulging with gingerbread, his only food. No one knows who he is or where he lives because he never speaks, just runs, eats gingerbread, sips water at the public pumps.

At times, she felt that she was involved in an elaborate peasant dance, which had not been entirely explained to her. Now the hand is held; now the heel is stamped; now the head turns; and then the kiss.

Dr. Bogart was about to tell me more when William de la Touche Clancey sat down next to me with an insolent crash (do I resemble a country youth because I am small?)

That is a question you have to ask the Old Man of the Moon.

So who are you?" Jiming asked. "Other than a boy who brings wine to toads at night.

He watched her small figure disappear and brought the bag back to his shoulder to continue onward. But before he took another step, he looked at the tall mountain that touched the moon, its peak soaring into the sky as if holding it up. Misty clouds draped softly, but up where the mountain met the moon, Rendi thought he could still see what he expected to be there. There was old Mr. Shan, the Spirit of the Mountain, who sat at the mountain's tip with the book in his lap.

and yet could swear it was just then that I fell in love. It wasn't, of course, simply the onions -- it was the sudden sense of an individual woman, of a frankness that was so often later to make me happy and miserable.

There is an old legend that somewhere in the world every man has his double.

It is the earliest dream that I can remember, earlier than the witch at the corner of the nursery passage, this dream of something outside that has got to come in. The witch, like the masked dancers, has form, but this is simply power, a force exerted on a door, an influence that drifted after me upstairs and pressed against windows.

I like to have a secret love affair, a hidden life, something to lie about.

There's only things, Blackie.

She wasn't religious. She didn't believe in heaven or hell, only in ghosts, Ouija boards, tables which rapped and little inept voices speaking plaintively of flowers

You can't conceive, my child, nor can I or anyone the … appalling … strangeness of the mercy of God.

There was something about a fête which drew Arthur Rowe irresistibly

That was another mystery: it sometimes seemed to him that venial sins—impatience, an unimportant lie, pride, a neglected opportunity—cut you off from grace more completely than the worst sins of all.