It cannot be seen, cannot be felt, Cannot be heard, cannot be smelt, It lies behind stars and under hills, And empty holes it fills, It comes first and follows after, Ends life, kills laughter.
Some things were beyond understanding.
I seem to attract and be attracted to very willful, fascinating people.
As a rule, the more bizarre a thing is, the less mysterious it proves to be.
I love to interview outrageous people who speak their minds; also, people who have some kind of mystery attached to them.
Only mystery allows us to live, only mystery.
You dig deeper and it gets more and more complicated, and you get confused, and it's tricky and it's hard, but... It is beautiful.
There is nothing as mysterious as a fact clearly described.
I wasn't really quite sure where Heath Ledger came from, and I think that's the feeling most people got when they were around him and why he was so extraordinary.
My great day came and went, I do not know how. Because it did not pass through dawn when it came, nor through dusk when it went.
Mystery is the number one conjurer of ideas.
I always loved bands with mystique.
You like being vague, don't you? (Amanda) It was a choice of being a Dark-Hunter or a prophet. Personally I like the slash-and-kill stuff much more than prayers and the lotus position. (Acheron)
Your trouble is, you keep trying to unscrew the unscrutable.
What's mysterious, ambiguous, inexplicable. What doesn't fit into a story, what doesn't have a story. Glint of brightness on a barely-there chain. Patch of sunlight on a yellow wall. The loneliness that separates every living creature from every other living creature. Sorrow inseparable from joy.
Fugazi, Fugazi. It's a wazy. It's a woozie. It's fairy dust.
M is for magic. All the letters are, if you put them together properly. You can make magic with them, and dreams, and, I hope, even a few surprises.
But mark, madam, we live amongst riddles and mysteries--the most obvious things, which come in our way, have dark sides, which thequickest sight cannot penetrate into; and even the clearest and most exalted understandings amongst us find ourselves puzzled and at a loss in almost every cranny of nature's works.
[Mystery] is the fundamental emotion that stands at the cradle of true art and true science.
I'm a walking, talking enigma. We're a dying breed.
The mysterious does not spell itself out in capital letters, as many writers believe, but is always between, an interstice.
p.61 He [Roark] was usually disliked, from the first sight of his face, anywhere he went. His face was closed like the door of a safety vault; things locked in safety vaults are valuable; men did not care to feel that. He was a cold, disquieting presence in the room; his presence had a strange quality: it made itself felt and yet it made them feel that he was not there; or perhaps that he was and they weren't.
My idea of magic doesn't have much to do with stage tricks and illusions. The whole world abounds in magic.
They understand but a little who understand only what can be explained.
Black as night, sweet as sin.
