Mystery Quotes - Page 9

When I encountered these haunting words from Franz Kafka, I realized exactly why this light sermon about the search for God had struck such a nerve: "Everyday life is the greatest detective story ever written. Every second, without noticing, we pass by thousands of corpses and crimes. That's the routine of our lives.
Stephen Kendrick
He wrote: "A religion to be true must include everything from the amoeba to the milky way." Nothing must be excluded from our view and purview for any faith to be true.
Stephen Kendrick
There is an old story from the Eastern tradition that says that when the gods created the universe, they found a place for everything but the truth, and this created a problem, because the gods did not want this wisdom discovered right away. One of the gods suggested the top of the highest mountain, another the farthest star, a third spoke up for the dark side of the moon, and another for the bottom of the deepest ocean. Finally, they decide to place truth inside the human heart. In that way, we would search for it all over the universe, with the secret within us all the time.
Stephen Kendrick
I've come back for you, my love, my life. Let me look at you, keep you, never let go of you.
Sandra Byrd
Like herbs in a pestle, life steadily ground out the essence of those who did not have access to comforts.
Sandra Byrd
[Robert's eulogy at his brother, Ebon C. Ingersoll's grave. Even the great orator Robert Ingersoll was choked up with tears at the memory of his beloved brother]The record of a generous life runs like a vine around the memory of our dead, and every sweet, unselfish act is now a perfumed flower.Dear Friends: I am going to do that which the dead oft promised he would do for me.The loved and loving brother, husband, father, friend, died where manhood's morning almost touches noon, and while the shadows still were falling toward the west.He had not passed on life's highway the stone that marks the highest point; but, being weary for a moment, he lay down by the wayside, and, using his burden for a pillow, fell into that dreamless sleep that kisses down his eyelids still. While yet in love with life and raptured with the world, he passed to silence and pathetic dust.Yet, after all, it may be best, just in the happiest, sunniest hour of all the voyage, while eager winds are kissing every sail, to dash against the unseen rock, and in an instant hear the billows roar above a sunken ship. For whether in mid sea or 'mong the breakers of the farther shore, a wreck at last must mark the end of each and all. And every life, no matter if its every hour is rich with love and every moment jeweled with a joy, will, at its close, become a tragedy as sad and deep and dark as can be woven of the warp and woof of mystery and death.This brave and tender man in every storm of life was oak and rock; but in the sunshine he was vine and flower. He was the friend of all heroic souls. He climbed the heights, and left all superstitions far below, while on his forehead fell the golden dawning, of the grander day.He loved the beautiful, and was with color, form, and music touched to tears. He sided with the weak, the poor, and wronged, and lovingly gave alms. With loyal heart and with the purest hands he faithfully discharged all public trusts.He was a worshipper of liberty, a friend of the oppressed. A thousand times I have heard him quote these words: 'For Justice all place a temple, and all season, summer!' He believed that happiness was the only good, reason the only torch, justice the only worship, humanity the only religion, and love the only priest. He added to the sum of human joy; and were every one to whom he did some loving service to bring a blossom to his grave, he would sleep to-night beneath a wilderness of flowers.Life is a narrow vale between the cold and barren peaks of two eternities. We strive in vain to look beyond the heights. We cry aloud, and the only answer is the echo of our wailing cry. From the voiceless lips of the unreplying dead there comes no word; but in the night of death hope sees a star and listening love can hear the rustle of a wing.He who sleeps here, when dying, mistaking the approach of death for the return of health, whispered with his latest breath, 'I am better now.' Let us believe, in spite of doubts and dogmas, of fears and tears, that these dear words are true of all the countless dead.And now, to you, who have been chosen, from among the many men he loved, to do the last sad office for the dead, we give his sacred dust.Speech cannot contain our love. There was, there is, no gentler, stronger, manlier man.
Robert G. Ingersoll
The ‘Muse’ is not an artistic mystery, but a mathematical equation. The gift are those ideas you think of as you drift to sleep. The giver is that one you think of when you first awake.
Roman Payne
The mysterious does not spell itself out in capital letters, as many writers believe, but is always between, an interstice.
Julio Cortázar
Your boss takes a dim view of SEX?
Vincent H. O'Neil
It'll be a change," says Marcus. "Something different.""Not a mystery."Marcus laughs. "No. Not a mystery. Just a nice safe history."Ah, my darling. But there is no such thing.
Kate Morton
Actors are all about entrances, but writers are all about exits.
Vincent H. O'Neil
That's what I love most about writers--they're such lousy actors.
Vincent H. O'Neil
When all the details fit in perfectly, something is probably wrong with the story.
Charles Baxter
She walks,on the streets,with a face that,doesn't belong.It smiles more than,many put together,whole day long.Her heart misfit,a little chipped.And she likes to,call it once broken,but now stitched.
Jasleen Kaur Gumber
Facts are relative to the knowledge man possesses at the present time. Truth however, is absolute and transcends the present, past, and future times. The relationship between Truth and Facts is that facts are not always the Truth, but Truth is always a Fact.
Atom Tate
Oh, sometimes I like to put the sand of doubt into the oyster of my faith." (Br. Cadfael)
Ellis Peters
As Emmanuel, Cardinal Suhard says, "To be a witness does not consist in engaging in propaganda, nor even in stirring people up, but in being a living mystery. It means to live in such a way that one's life would not make sense if God did not exist.
Madeleine L'Engle
Faith and love are apt to be spasmodic in the best minds. Men live the brink of mysteries and harmonies into which they never enter, and with their hands on the door-latch they die outside.
Ralph Waldo Emerson
No, I would not want to live in a world without dragons, as I would not want to live in a world without magic, for that is a world without mystery, and that is a world without faith.
R.A. Salvatore
In your handsThe dog, the donkey, surely they knowtThey are alive.Who would argue otherwise?But now, after years of consideration,tI am getting beyond that.What about the sunflowers? What abouttThe tulips, and the pines?Listen, all you have to do is start andtThere’ll be no stopping.What about mountains? What about watertSlipping over rocks?And speaking of stones, what abouttThe little ones you can Hold in your hands, their heartbeatstSo secret, so hidden it may take yearsBefore, finally, you hear them?
Mary Oliver
Let me keep my distance, always, from those who think they have the answers.Let me keep company always with those who say "Look!" and laugh in astonishment, and bow their heads.
Mary Oliver
Here is a story that’s stranger than strange. Before we begin you may want to arrange:a blanket, a cushion, a comfortable seat,and maybe some cocoa and something to eat.I’ll warn you, of course, before we commence, my story is eerie and full of suspense, brimming with danger and narrow escapes, and creatures of many remarkable shapes.Dragons and ogres and gorgons and more, and creatures you’ve not even heard of before. And faraway places? There’s plenty of those! (And menacing villains to tingle your toes.)So ready your mettle and steady your heart. It’s time for my story’s mysterious start...
Robert Paul Weston
My silence knot is tied up in my hair; as if to keep my love out of my eyes. I cannot speak to one for whom i care. A hatpin serves as part of my disguise. In the play, my role is baticeer; a word which here means "person who trains bats." The audience may feel a prick of fear, as if sharp pins are hidden in thier hats. My co-star lives on what we call a brae. His solitude might not be just an act. A piece of mail fails to arrive one day. This poignant melodrama's based on fact.The curtain falls just as the knot unties; the silence is broken by the one who dies.
Lemony Snicket
... so this is for us.This is for us who sing, write, dance, act, study, run and loveand this is for doing it even if no one will ever knowbecause the beauty is in the act of doing it.Not what it can lead to.This is for the times I lose myself while writing, singing, playingand no one is around and they will never knowbut I will forever rememberand that shines brighter than any praise or fame or glory I will ever have,and this is for you who write or play or read or singby yourself with the light off and door closedwhen the world is asleep and the stars are alignedand maybe no one will ever hear itor read your wordsor know your thoughtsbut it doesn’t make it less glorious.It makes it ethereal. Mysterious.Infinite.For it belongs to you and whatever God or spirit you believe inand only you can decide how much it meantand meansand will forever meanand other people will experience it toothrough you.Through your spirit. Through the way you talk.Through the way you walk and love and laugh and careand I never meant to write this longbut what I want to say is:Don’t try to present your art by making other people read or hear or see or touch it; make them feel it. Wear your art like your heart on your sleeve and keep it alive by making people feel a little better. Feel a little lighter. Create art in order for yourself to become yourselfand let your very existence be your song, your poem, your story.Let your very identity be your book.Let the way people say your name sound like the sweetest melody.So go create. Take photographs in the wood, run alone in the rain and sing your heart out high up on a mountainwhere no one will ever hearand your very existence will be the most hypnotising scar.Make your life be your artand you will never be forgotten.
Charlotte Eriksson
So I find words I never thought to speakIn streets I never thought I should revisitWhen I left my body on a distant shore.
T.S Eliot
She might not have read many books. But when she reads a book, she swallows the very words. If you open the books on her shelves, you will find that the front and back covers encase white pages.
Kamand Kojouri
After earning a degree in Marketing at Auburn University, I spent the next five years in the business world, which is a polite way of saying that I had eleven jobs in a five-year period, including door to door sales, skip tracing people who didn’t want to be found, repossessing cars and collecting on defaulted student loans. During this five-year period, I did an in-depth study of abnormal psychology and sociopathic behavior – and then I divorced him.
C Mack Lewis
It was this mystery, bereft now of all fear, and this beauty together that made life the endless, changing and yet changeless, thing it was. And yet mystery and loveliness alike were really only appreciable with one's legs, as it were, dangling down over into the grave.
Walter de la Mare
Death and what came after death was no great mystery to Sabriel. She just wished it was.
Garth Nix
Oh honey, someday a real man is going to make you see stars and you won't even be looking at the sky." Excerpt from Grace Willow's Last Minute Bride
Grace Willows
She was a ray of sunshine, a warm summer rain, a bright fire on a cold winter’s day, and now she could be dead because she had tried to save the man she loved.
Grace Willows
The corpse opened his eyes.
Donato Carrisi
How does one kill fear, I wonder? How do you shoot a spectre through the heart, slash off its spectral head, take it by its spectral throat?
Joseph Conrad
Know this, sivamet-this child will be mine. I will take Vadim's blood from you and exchange it for mine. Eventually, over time, she will be ours. My child and yours. My blood will change her cells. her organs, reshaping and repairing any damage. 'The healer-"- Dragomir to Emeline
Christine Feehan
He saw trust. Complete trust. It was a gift, a precious one, and it humbled him. I've got you, Emeline. I will always be with you.Dragomire to Emeline, Dark Legacy, Dark #27
Christine Feehan
I can't believe I have you here with me," she whispered and turned her face into his throat, nuzzling him. Inhaling. Tasting his skin with her tongue. "My life was pain and terror. You took away his voice. You gave me hope that my daughter would survive and others wouldn't shun her. I was terrified and alone, and you changed all that. You brought beauty and hope back into my life. Thank you for that, Dragomire. I swear I will spend every minute making you happy."Emeline to Dragomire, Dark Legacy, Dark #27
Christine Feehan
If you call a gypsy a vagabond, I think you do him wrong,For he never goes a-travelling but he takes his home along.And the only reason a road is good, as every wanderer knows,Is just because of the homes, the homes, the homes to which it goes.
Joyce Kilmer
He noticed her eyes were a rich, warm brown, the same color as his favorite horse."Yes?"He realized he'd been staring. At least he had the sense not to voice his thoughts. He doubted she would appreciate her eye color being compared to that of his horse's hide even if it was his favorite.
B.J. Daniels
Her gaze locked with his and she felt her heart quicken. Slowly, he bent his head until his lips were only a breath away from her own. She couldn't breathe. Didn't dare. She thought she would die if he didn't kiss her.
B.J. Daniels
His lips brushed over hers. She let out a sigh of relief and joy and pleasure. He pulled her tighter against him, taking her mouth with his own. She melted into him and the kiss, heart pounding, desire sparking along her nerve endings like a string of lit dynamite.
B.J. Daniels
Hank Knight asked questions about Jesse Rose and an item that was taken from her crib the night she was kidnapped. His questions led our lawyer to believe Hank had knowledge about the crime and possibly where Jesse Rose is now. I think he got too close to the truth. Too close to the kidnapper's accomplice. And if I'm right then you can help me prove it.
B.J. Daniels
When it's sunny, why not spend some time dressing up and go out to have a walk!
Tachibana Higuchi
My ex calls the ochre winter 'autumn' as we queue to hear dock boys play jazz fugues in velvet dark.— Broken Verses
Kamila Shamsie
The reader is the final arbiter.
Sam Reaves
Several Terminal Policy readers got together to tell Raker jokes: t- Raker CAN piss into the wind. t- Raker donates a lot of blood to the Red Cross -- just never his own.t- Superman wears Raker pajamas. t- When Raker jumps into the pool, he doesn't get wet -- the pool gets Raker. t- Why did the chicken cross the road? Because Raker THREW her there!!t- Raker's daughter lost her virginity ... he got it back.t- Raker doesn't cheat death, he wins fair and square.t- Raker turns on a light at night … not because he's afraid of the dark but because the dark is afraid of him.-tWhen the boogy man goes to bed he checks under his bed for Raker.-tDon’t tread on Raker’s cape!
Liam McCurry
Rene Caron takes my breath away!
Teresa Lynn
Gay sex, one. Straight sex, zero
Dani Alexander
The blood dried on his good hand, he passed his palm over her hair. It curled about his wrist and sprung back into displace as the breeze fluttered by. In the firelight, it was golden like the dandelions of which she’d spoken. The ones that had grown along the Franklin riverbank in late summer. The ones he had lost any faith in since he’d committed his first murder there.
V.S. Carnes
I should have been bolder and kissed her at the end. I should have been more cautious. I had talked too much. I had said too little.
Patrick Rothfuss
He tugged my zipper down like he was unveiling a gift, spreading my pants open. “Yeah. There it is. You have a nice fat dick. I would have never guessed it."“I’m Italian,” I said inanely.
L.B. Gregg
The northern star changes its position every ten thousand years, but friendships can last for all eternity.— RJPeters
R.J. Peters
My heart, for unknown reasons, seems to freeze in motion in my chest. I can see he senses it and he holds his pause to enjoy my suffering, prolonging my ignorance. “Viktor, what?
Gwenn Wright
Romance is everything to turn it into a cause for given is priceless
Maxine Wilson-Perry
Never Give up, never surrender.
Nancy J. Cohen
That’s the last time I put you in charge of the tequila when we’re making margaritas
JoAnne Kenrick
He felt like home.
JoAnne Kenrick
So you want me to go to a human orgy, where I will not be welcome, and you want us to leave before I get to enjoy myself? ~Eric Northman
Charlaine Harris
Without realizing what she was doing and more on an impulse than anything else, she leaned forward and kissed him. It was a simple, yet firm kiss and she pulled back after only a moment. But it sent a thrill through her. He leaned down for another. But she put her finger on his lips to stop him. "That was my reward to you," she said as they danced. "Don't squander it." "Reward? he asked still seeming both surprised and delighted at this unexpected attention. "What for?" "Why for living, Vaelros. And for doing so much else to help me. I will have you rewarded in state as well. But that was just from me." She saw Vaelros flush and she gave him a brilliant smile. "You don't like my reward?" she asked. "I do!" he replied. "I want only to learn how to earn more." The music was fading. The song was ending. Luthiel stepped back and let her hands drop. "A mysterious thing, my heart," she said.
Robert Fanney
I slipped in and out of consciousness as time stretched and flowed around me. Dreams and reality blurred, but I liked the dreams better. Noah was in them.I dreamed of us, walking hand in hand down a crowded street in the middle of the day. We were in New York. I was in no rush—I could walk with him forever—but Noah was. He pulled me alongside him, strong and determined and not smiling. Not today.We wove among the people, somehow not touching a single one. The trees were green and blossoming. It was spring, almost summer. A strong wind shook a few steadfast flowers off of the branches and into our path. We ignored them.Noah led me into Central Park. It was teeming with human life. Bright colored picnic blankets burst across the lawn, the pale, outstretched forms of people wriggling over them like worms in fruit. We passed the reservoir, the sun reflecting off its surface, and then the crowd began to thicken.They funneled into a throbbing mass as we strode up a hill, over and through. Until we could see them all below us, angry and electric. Noah reached into his bag. He pulled out the little cloth doll, my grandmother’s. The one we burned.
Michelle Hodkin
She, as no other ever could, reached every corner of his heart. His joy, and his salvation.
J D ROBB

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