Quotes About Mystery

You have ever been my favourite,' he said, looking away. 'Your favourite what?' 'High Priestess, of course. What else might I be thinking?' 'Well, that is the eternal question, isn't it?' 'One too many people spend too much time worrying about.' 'You cannot be serious, Anomander.

Ask no question, the river shall answer.' 'Question the river, find the answer.

Some gifts are evil. Others are not, but what they are remains to be discovered. Rest

The trouble with Ascendants is that they try to rig every game. Of course, we delight in . . . uncertainty." A

And why would a monk slit my throat, Stillwater?' She shrugged. 'Who can figure out the mind of a monk?

Though he'd never seen her, just her name on the hot, dry wind was enough to give him the shakes. Mage killer, the scorpion in the Imperial pocket.

She felt his eyes exploring her like ghost hands.

The alchemist pulled his gaze back to Vorcan

You took us, you made us into something, but none of us knows what, or even what for.

How he knew no one could say. How he thought, no one could imagine. How deep and vast his love, no one could conceive.

One day,' he said, 'we shall walk the Roads to the Abyss. And so witness all the wonders of the universe.

Blend walked into K'rul's Bar and found it empty, save for the hunched figure of the historian, who sat at his chosen table, staring at the stained, pitted wood. She walked over and looked down at him. 'Who died?' Duiker did not look up. 'Not who, Blend. More like what. What died? More, I think, than we'll ever know.

And who is this?' Bugg asked. A shifting of vast stones—now this…this shoving aside of entire mountains. What begins here?

luck or fate or whatever it is that decides who lives and who doesn't has not,

For reasons nobody understands, the universe is deeply mathematical. Maybe God made it that way. Or maybe it's the only way a universe with us in it could be, because nonmathematical universes can't harbor life intelligent enough to ask the question. In any case, it's a mysterious and marvelous fact that our universe obeys laws of nature that always turn out to be expressible in the language of calculus as sentences called differential equations.

So he used calculus not only to predict the existence of electromagnetic waves but also to solve an age-old mystery: What was the nature of light? Light, he realized, was an electromagnetic wave.

Nature—cue the theme from The Twilight Zone—somehow knows calculus.

I'm alone with the ghost of the swamp, somewhere near the weeping willows.

There are some questions, after all, that we never get answers to. Some doors remain locked forever, and that's life.

Emptiness where you wouldn't expect it speaks to you.

Apparently, Ellory had been right yesterday when he told me that Chekov was a ghost—Prague, Johannesburg, Rome, Hong Kong—Alexei would materialize out of nowhere, do his work, and then disappear. But at least now, thanks to the video surveillance cameras at the Minneapolis–St. Paul International Airport, we had a photo of him.

To me, wherever [God] are, they are. I just know them through encounters. Claiming that I have to know about them before I know them is like saying I have to be able to know what your liver is like to genuinely know you.

You talk about deus ex machina, well, we're talking about deus in machina. You start by thinking there's a god in the box. And then you find there isn't anything in the box. You put the god in the box.

There's something that doesn't make sense. Let's go and poke it with a stick.