What GOD has joined together, let no man put asunder. Your consummation is an eternal binding. It is a glorious mystery not realized by many, and abused by most." ~SCRIBER~
The Initial Mystery that attends any journey is: how did the traveler reach his starting point in the first place?
Everybody trusts a guy in a raincoat. I don't know why. It's just one of those mystery facts.
The logic behind patriotism is a mystery. At least a man who believes that his own family or clan is superior to all others is familiar with more than 0.000003% of the people involved.
I'm dark matter. The universe inside of me is full of something, and science can't even shine a light on it. I feel like I'm mostly made of mysteries.
Anyone who has actually been that sad can tell you that there's nothing beautiful or literary or mysterious about depression.
I never fell. I don't care what they say. I'm still doing my job, as I see it.
The beginning of Eternity, The end of time and space, The beginning of every end, And the end of every place. What am I?
Art never responds to the wish to make it democratic; it is not for everybody; it is only for those who are willing to undergo the effort needed to understand it.
Anybody who has survived his childhood has enough information about life to last him the rest of his days.
We are now living in an age which doubts both fact and value. It is the life of this age that we wish to see and judge.
When there is a tendency to compartmentalize the spiritual and make it resident in a certain type of life only, the spiritual is apt gradually to be lost.
What mysteries we are, human, vampire, monster, mortal, that we can love and hate simultaneously, and that emotions of all sorts might not parade for what they are not.
I’m so shy I make Bigfoot look like a socialite. Networking’s not a mystery to me—but I’m mythical to networking.
It is curious to note the old sea-margins of human thought! Each subsiding century reveals some new mystery; we build where monsters used to hide themselves.
So we gave up. I'd finally had enough of chasing after a ghost who did not want to be seen. We'd failed, maybe, but some mysteries aren't meant to be solved.
She has the mysterious solitude of ambiguous states; she hovers in a no-man’s land between life and death, sleeping and waking.
I loved her for what I couldn't understand about her. Love searches for the mystery in the beloved, seeks the unknowable.
The terrible shock of his sentence had in some way broken that wall which separates us from the mystery of things beyond and which we call life.
Children are the closest we have to wisdom, and they become adults the moment that final drop of everything mysterious is strained from them.
Life…was much like a song. In the beginning there is mystery, in the end there is confirmation, but it’s in the middle where all the emotion resides to make the whole thing worthwhile.
