Quotes About Mystery

I had an inkling there was a razor-sharp intellect, a shrewd individual within the fluff of Livvy's persona. There was another side to Sacramante, something which I'd caught an echo of as a girl, something that intrigued and seduced the unwary. Liviana was an intiate of its mysteries, but I knew I'd never learn its secrets from her.

I shrugged, slightly unnerved by the feverish joy in the other girls' eyes.

He knew there were dreams waiting for him, and could even feel their shadowy presences rusting in the corners of the room, among his clothes in the wardrobe, beneath his bed.

The women around her, many of whom she knew, were not showing their everyday faces. They did know something, she could sense it. They hid their secret faces behind a screen, but now it was drawn back.

The significance of what happened in that room was not revealed to me for a long, long time.

I am always waiting for something, he thought, kept on hold; but for what? What is it that I have forgotten?

Great moving cities prowl in the Flatlands. They are drawn along lines of glittering stones, which are planted by a race of people who, steeped in their own mystery, direct the motions of the city. The cities are vast, huge leviathans that carve a deep wound into the earth.

I get bored easily. I wanted to keep you guessing.

He wondered whether what he had heard indicated that a city was moving far above him on the surface, and whether the wounding thunder meant that, it had foundered, or collided with another city.

Sudden squalls of wind seemed to talk to him, pluck his hair in a spiteful way.

As Shan floated in the chilly water, he shivered, suddenly aware of the rich, mysterious ambience of the glade, its deep-breathing watchfulness.

She felt he knew where Owen was, and was savouring the knowledge; something she didn't have.

This country; you can feel the magic, can't you?" He inhaled slowly. "Smell it.

The High Place was special to Owen: it had always drawn him. It was as if a quiet, insistent voice spoke to his inner mind, telling him what he should do there.

Shiny, undulating forms wave between his legs, caressed his flanks, but neither bit nor constricted his limbs.

By his side, Owen was standing with his head thrown back, his eyes peacefully closed, lips parted. Othman realised the boy was really quite beautiful. He looked like a dying saint, or someone inviting a kiss.

Why am I attracted to magic? Write down your responses. You might find you write a poem, or even something that later you will be able to use in a ritual. No-one else will read it, so you can be as honest as you like. Date the page. It is the beginning of a mgical diary.

The world is a fascinating place, and I travel within it. I'm come to places like this to unearth their secrets. There are always plenty.

Everyone wanted to know more lurid tales about the Wraethru. Only I knew he was one of them: his hands were never still, and I could tell half the things he said were lies.

How could someone be so familar, yet a complete stranger?

The Hanged One is waiting for you! He is hungry for you, Taziel!

Daniel tried to explain to his sister what kind of creature Othman was. Verity supposed this was no more unlikely than all the other things she'd experienced over the last week or so.

Fey little maid. So lonely, and yet not.

He had a secret life of which she knew nothing.