Quotes About Mystery

Curiosity is lying in wait for every secret.

Music takes us out of the actual and whispers to us dim secrets that startle our wonder as to who we are, and for what, whence, and whereto.

How cunningly nature hides every wrinkle of her inconceivable antiquity under roses and violets and morning dew!

The method of nature: who could ever analyze it?

The hand that rounded Peter's dome,And groined the aisles of Christian Rome,Wrought in a sad sincerity;Himself from God he could not free;He builded better than he knew—The conscious stone to beauty grew.

A lady, with whom I was riding in the forest, said to me, that the woods always seemed to her to wait, as if the genii who inhabit them suspended their deeds until the wayfarer has passed onward: a thought which poetry has celebrated in the dance of the fairies, which breaks off on the approach of human feet.

Every religion is the product of the conceptual mind attempting to describe the mystery.

It is beyond words or thoughts.

Life is neither easy nor complex, it's just mysterious, rejoice every moment of life with awareness!

Never have I found MAN so interesting for his disoriented and unharmonious nature yet so adamant in his actions, a resultant effect of unconscious state, making him a subject of mystery!"

Sagittarians are aliens disguised as Humans!

The corridor didn't seem long enough to contain so much blackness. 'Passing Through Peacehaven

He slammed the door and ran blindly down the corridor, grabbing at handles. What exactly had he seen? They had been eating with their bare hands, but somehow the only thought he could hold on to was a kind of sickened gratitude that he had been unable to see their faces.

As soon as Todd drove off the motorway it vanished from the mirror, and so did the sun across the moor.

Unlike the rest he had seen of the bungalow, the hall beyond the door was dark. He could see the glimmer of three doors and several framed photographs lined up along the walls. The sound of flies was louder, though they didn't seem to be in the hall itself. Now that he was closer they sounded even more like someone groaning feebly, and the rotten smell was stronger too.

All day Ben had felt surrounded by signs too secret to interpret: the dance of decaying leaves in the air, the long shadows where the autumn chill lurked like winter biding its time, a sun which looked swollen with blood as the mist dragged it down beyond the unconvincing cut-out shapes the houses had become.

horses which drew the hearse, and far more ineffectual. Every open grave I had to stand beside was a gateway to knowledge which nobody other than I appeared to realise was there to be tapped. As mourners dropped earth on the coffin it sounded very much like knocking on a door, and I imagined how terrified the priest and his little congregation would be if any opened in the earth.

Catherine smiled then; opening the Linking Book, she placed her hand against it. "We could fall into the night and be cradled by stars and still return to the place where we began…" The last word was an echo as she vanished.

The Name of the Rose and J. M. Synge's Riders to the Sea?

He sagged against the tree, clung to it, pushed hard against the horrible images while he chanted to the bark, She is a dark-haired woman, green eyed and dusky with secrets. Her mouth is sensuous but sad, limbs long and elegant, every movement languid…

It's interesting, the secrets you decide to reveal at the end of your life.

What we most love is not what we know, but what knows us and draws us. . . . (78)

Everything about her seems to be saying, Listen, if you don't look attentively, if you don't go beyond my simplicity to detect the simmering volcano in me, you are not it.

What do the stars believe in, Zainab? Where do the dead horses go, what do the birds worship, and what do the rivers live for?