Quotes About Mystery

The Spiritist is said to be a dangerous woman.

She remembered then what had been at the back of her mind. Barracus had told her that the veil to the world of the dead had glowed a strange green when he passed through it. He had told her that when he had gone through that green wall, that was how he knew that he had crossed over into the underworld. He had called it the green breadth of the spirits.

The chicken thing let out a whispering cackle.

He didn't know anything about wizards, or magic, but no one would send Kahlan through the boundary, through the underworld, without a powerful reason. He wondered what could be that important.

Not that cabinet," he said, lowering his voice as if to thwart anyone who might be listening, "in my wizard's cabinet!" Richard straightened with a frown. "I've never seen any other cabinet.

The whole of life is just like watching a film. Only it's as though you always get in ten minutes after the big picture has started, and no-one will tell you the plot, so you have to work it out all yourself from the clues.

It's still magic even if you know how it's done.

There's a door. Where does it go? It stays where it is, I think.

The men in the room suddenly realized that they did not want to know her better. She was beautiful, but she was beautiful in the way a forest fire was beautiful: something to be admired from a distance, not up close. And she held her sword, and she smiled like a knife.

She walked quickly through the darkness with the frank stride of someone who was at least certain that the forest, on this damp and windy night, contained strange and terrible things and she was it.

Just because you can explain it doesn't mean it's not still a miracle.

Knowing things is magical, if other people don't know them.

This time it had been magic. And it didn't stop being magic just because you found out how it was done.

It doesn't stop being magic just because you know how it works.

The librarians were mysterious. It was said they could tell what book you needed just by looking at you, and they could take your voice away with a word.

It was octarine, the colour of magic. It was alive and glowing and vibrant and it was the undisputed pigment of the imagination, because wherever it appeared it was a sign that mere matter was a servant of the powers of the magical mind. It was enchantment itself. But Rincewind always thought it looked a sort of greenish-purple.

Who shall I shoot? You choose. Now, listen very carefully: where's your coffee? You've got coffee, haven't you? C'mon, everyone's got coffee! Spill the beans!

There is no doubt that being human is incredibly difficult and cannot be mastered in one lifetime.

What was supposed to be so special about a full moon? It was only a big circle of light. And the dark of the moon was only darkness. But halfway between the two, when the moon was between the worlds of light and dark, when even the moon lived on the edge...maybe then a witch could believe in the moon.

It's beautiful, said Mort softly. What is it? THE SUN IS UNDER THE DISC, said Death. Is it like this every night? EVERY NIGHT, said Death. NATURE'S LIKE THAT. Doesn't anyone know? ME. YOU. THE GODS. GOOD, ISN'T IT? Gosh! Death leaned over the saddle and looked down at the kingdoms of the world. I DON'T KNOW ABOUT YOU, he said, BUT I COULD MURDER A CURRY.

Magic never dies. It merely fades away.

What're quantum mechanics? I don't know. People who repair quantums, I suppose.

When you look into the abyss, it's not supposed to wave back.

What did they feed the lions and tigers with in the ark, sir?