Quotes About Mystery

Leunagasolin, such as, oh, the Moss Creature here, brightest

We are digits in God's computer, she not so much thought as hummed to herself to a sort of standard gospel tune, And the only thing we're good for, to be dead or to be living, is the only thing He sees. What we cry, what we contend for, in our world of toil and blood, it all lies beneath the notice of the hacker we call God.

Reader, she bit him.

young man. Meet me at my place. Glück." So

Bigfoot didn't answer but there were times Doc could hear his silences, and this one was saying Too Much You Can't Know About So Fuck Off.

Aye, some of us have never seen him, only heard his steps on the nights when there is no Moon, or his voice, speaking from above the only words he knows,— 'Eyeh asher Eyeh,' "—in on which, in Tones hush'd, though ominous, the others now join. "That is, 'I am that which I am,'" helpfully translates a somehow nautical-looking Indiv. with gigantick Fore-Arms, and one Eye ever a-Squint from the Smoke of his Pipe.

Everything in life that we really accept undergoes a change. So suffering must become Love. That is the mystery.

When she looked through the dark windows at the stars, they had long beams like wings...

Very early morning. The sun was not yet risen, and the whole of Crescent Bay was hidden under a white sea-mist. The big bush-covered hills at the back were smothered. You could not see where

The mind I love most must have wild places, a tangled orchard where dark damsons drop in the heavy grass, an overgrown little wood, the chance of a snake or two, a pool that nobody fathomed the depth of, and paths threaded with flowers planted by the mind.

Soulful marriages are often odd on the surface. —Thomas Moore

It doesn't come up ever, and yet it comes up always.

Sing A Song Of Sixpence A Pocketful Of Lies

All else seemed sterile compared to what she witnessed in the woods.

If we are not afraid, if we keep our balance, if we let our anxious selves dissolve into the beauties and mysteries of the night, we will find a way to peace and assurance. Signal fires burn all over the land.

There is necessary beauty in the world, I understand this. Beauty to attract mates, to attract prey, to attract pollinators. But so much of beauty seems to be bycatch, "unnecessary beauty," waste products of essential processes. The opalescence of the inside of an oyster shell, a rainbow around the moon, a baby's dreaming smile. Profligate beauty is a mystery to me. Sing praises.

Listen to. To hear with thoughtful attention. To hold something close, to attend to it, to be astonished by it, to devote your life to its mysteries, to name it precisely, to wonder how it comes to be. To stay awake to it. To move closer to the wild and twittering night. To let it cover you and keep you safe. To me, listening is starting to sound a lot like love.

This is our work in the world: to pull on rubber boots and stand in this lively, dangerous water, bracing against the slapping waves, one foot on stone, another on sand. When one foot slips and the other sinks, to hop awkwardly to keep from filling our boots. To laugh, to point, and sometimes to let this surging, light-flecked mystery wash into us and knock us to our knees, while we sing songs of celebration through our own three short nights, our voices thin in the darkness.

I was happy then, standing in the surge with lines of moonlight catching on my rubber boots. This is something that needs explaining, how light emerges from darkness, how comfort wells up from sorrow. The Earth holds every possibility inside it, and the mystery of transformation, one thing into another. This is the wildest comfort.

Pity the dark: we're so concerned to overcome and banish it, it's crammed full of all that's devilish, like some grim cupboard under the stair. But dark is good. We are conceived and carried in darkness, are we not?

There's mystery in my own back green - especially in my own back green!

Nate paused for a moment, taking in the sight of Beatrice Love. The woman sat slumped in her chair talking silently to a small red object in the palm of her hand. That couldn't be good.

Very blue blood. Bunny stepped back, narrowing her gaze. Was she nuts, or did each frame sit two inches from the next? Exactly. Wow. This guy needed a cosmic energy intervention and fast.

me was somehow tied up in that simple little verse. I clung to it for comfort. I held it close, examining its every facet. Yet as the weeks, months, then years began to pass, I came to realize I would never fully plumb the depths of its meaning—at least not in this life. Its meaning would always