Quotes About Mystery

Crains, dans le mur aveugle, un regard qui t'épie!

A curse is a power Not subject to reason Each curse has its course Its own way of expiation Follow follow

You do not know, You cannot know, you cannot understand.

When the Stranger says: "What is the meaning of this city? Do you huddle close together because you love each other?" What will you answer?

O my soul, be prepared for the coming of the Stranger, Be prepared for him who knows how to ask questions.

Ho! We are being taunted by some sort of otherworldly fireflies. Someone fetch me my rifle!

For all the things we've seen... my goodness, the world still has more to show us, doesn't it?

John Wulgaru, she thought when she got back. Her hands were shaking. Is that his name, then? Am I the only person who knows that? Or the only person still alive?

Fritti, too, his head full of Hushpad and Firefoot and red claws, finally crossed the borders of the dream-fields. The furry tangle of Folk drowsed and mumbled away the waning Hour of Final Dancing.

Piglets and pawprints! cried Eatbugs, then paused and looked quickly around. He leaned toward his companions. Let's be off! he added, his voice a conspiratorial whisper.

Code Delphi. Hmmm. My choice of a code phrase to mark out these entries begins to seem . . . rather Delphic. In any case

There are two ways to find a lost city. The first is to rely on luck alone, the second is to control all the information.

Inscribed on it was a verse from the Quatrains of Omar Khayyam, the eleventh-century Persian mystic. Reading the words aloud I prepared for a most amazing journey: The sages who have compassed sea and land, Their secret to search out and understand, My mind misgives me if they ever solve The scheme on which the universe is planned.

In some warped way, having an embalmed body with us made perfect sense.

The mere mention of the Farakka Express, which jerks its way eastward each day from Delhi to Calcutta, is enough to throw even a seasoned traveller into fits of apoplexy. At a desert encampment on Namibia's Skeleton Coast, a hard-bitten adventurer had downed a peg of local fire-water then told me the tale. Farakka was a ghost train, he said, haunted by ghouls, Thuggees, and thieves. Only a passenger with a death wish would go anywhere near it.

What is beyond the darkness? Some say chaos and darker night. I say sunrise.

The secret of the charm of the lotus is that none can say wherin its beauty lies; for some say this, and some say that, but all agree that it is beautiful. And so indeed it is with woman.

Are you dippy, and all that sort of thing? Bats in the belfry—what? My word!" Marlowe stepped nearer to him and spoke in a lower voice. "Suppose, Mr. Warwick

That's the thing about digging holes," Quinn said. "There are no assurances you'll find what you want—or want what you find.

What's dry?' 'Good question. Next question!

I bet his mother was a wyvern. -Scamp

You have a destiny. You aren't allowed to know it.

Charter boats are like books with no covers.

He sang. The robot sang. He sang into my veins where my blood had been and where instead the notes and throbbing of the guitar now flowed. I could feel his song vibrating in my throat, as if I sang it too. I couldn't see him. If the crowd parted and I saw him, I would die.