Quotes About Mystery

Dragon intelligence was a mystery to men who made a study of the subject; he had no idea how much the dragon would hear or understand, but thought it better to avoid the risk of giving offense.

CUIDADO CON SU MASCOTA SECRETA».

I was seeing whispers and wind chimes — not solid wind chimes dangling, which would have been all right; I was seeing the sound of wind chimes, and don't ask me to describe it.

She was as deep in the Wood's power as any person can be.

Galina would not know where they came from; Palmira would not. Better not to know. To them they could be jewels, rich and fine, that someone had bought and paid for with gold and not with blood. They would have gone far enough away from the cruelty that made them, and then they could be only beautiful.

incomprehensible machinery working somewhere out of sight, keeping us all alive, suspended out of the world.

There's something nearby," she said. "Something up ahead." The captain heard her and glanced back. "Something dangerous?" "Something dead," Kasia said, and dropped her eyes to her saddle, her hands clenched on the reins.

Onderweg was het Woud van me weg geweken, alsof het bang was dat ik de spreuk anders weer zou opzeggen. Fulmia.

The spell towed me along with them, and I was glad to lose myself inside it. All the horrors of the day didn't vanish, but the Summoning made them only one part of the story, and not the most important part.

Blue shadows stretched out over the snow, cast by a pale thin light shining somewhere behind me, and as my breath rose in quick clouds around my face, the snow crunched: some large creature, picking its way toward the sleigh.

Most days weren't clear when you were in them.

The Rites of Beauty also seduce women by meeting their current hunger for color and poetry. As they make their way into male public space that is often prosaic and emotionally dead, beauty's sacraments glow brighter than ever. As women are inundated with claims on their time, ritual products give them an alibi to take some private time for themselves. At their best they give women back a taste of mystery and sensuality to compensate them for their days spent in the harsh light of the workplace.

I look up from my work, and see before me, less than a block away, the great mysterious "Broadway," the "Graveyard of Dead Hopes," and the "Front Porch of Opportunity." From all over the world people have come to Broadway, seeking fame, fortune, power, love, or whatever it is that human beings call success.

The fog comes on little cat feet.

Let only the young come, Says the sea. Let them kiss my face And hear me. I am the last word And I tell Where storms and stars come from.

Let us go out in the fog, John, let us roll up our raincoat collars and go on the streets where men are sneering at the kings.

The one-eyed mollusc on the sea-bottom, feathered and luminous, is my equal in what he and I know of star clusters not yet found by the best of star-gazers.

The dead say nothing And the dead know much And the dead hold under their tongues A locked-up story.

Cats have gnosis to a degree that is granted to few bishops.

To my surprise, I discovered that anesthesiologists are a bit in the dark themselves. "How anesthesia works has been a mystery since the discovery of anesthesia itself," writes Michael Alkire, an anesthesiologist at the University of California at Irvine School of Medicine, in the new Encyclopedia of Consciousness.

The darkness is necessary, the darkness of faith is necessary, for God's light is too great. It wounds. I understand more and more that faith is not a mysterious and cruel trick of a God who hides himself without telling me why, but a necessary veil. My discovery of him takes place gradually, respecting the growth of divine life in me.

La iglesia no satisface expectativas, celebra misterios.

Me complace mencionar también la figura de Alessandro Manzoni - recordada en la Carta pastoral Ripartiamo da Dio!-, en cuya boca pongo, como síntesis de su espiritualidad, estas palabras: «He comprendido que con Dios no se debe perder, sino capitular», es decir, abandonarse a su misterio de amor.

that a warrior, aware of the unfathomable mystery that surrounds him and aware of his duty to try to unravel it, takes his rightful place among mysteries and regards himself as one. Consequently, for a warrior there is no end to the mystery of being, whether being means being a pebble, or an ant, or oneself. That is a warrior's humbleness. One is equal to everything.