Mystery Quotes
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I spent the first twenty years of my writing career preparing for the mystery genre, which is my favorite literary form.
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How poetry comes to the poet is a mystery.
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You may have practical ethics and that kind of thing, but there is no spirituality in any aspect of our Western civilization. Our religious life is ethical, not mystical. The mystery has gone and society is disintegrating as a result.
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Willfulness must give way to willingness and surrender. Mastery must yield to mystery.
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Anna Held's birthdate and hometown are a dark mystery, thanks to her own mythmaking.
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I pray for meaning. I pray for the limits of reality to become clear. For a world – and a type of being – that makes sense. I pray for a life after death that is not like this life. I pray for the end of mystery. What would a life be like with all the mysteries solved? If there were no questions, there’d be no stories. If there were no stories, there’d be no language. If there was no language there’d be no . . . What?
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Not till I was shut up to prayer and to the study of God's word by the loss of earthly joys sickness destroying the flavor of them all did I begin to penetrate the mystery that is learned under the cross. And wondrous as it is, how simple is this mystery! To love Christ, and to know that I love Him this is all.
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My dad liked more macho adventure books like Shogun or spy novels. My mother reads murder mysteries. In fact, so does her mother, my grandma. That's where I trace the familial line of murder mystery obsession.
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It is a little out of touch to presume that someone wants to follow your every observation and insight over the course of hundreds of pages without any sort of payoff. That's why writing isn't a one-way street. You have to give something back: an interesting plot, a surprise, a laugh, a moment of tenderness, a mystery for the reader to piece together.
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For every role, you have to always find a different way to approach it, one that's specific and suits what the key is. Every role's a mystery. I think if you know what it is, you probably shouldn't even do it.
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The person is a mystery. What I'm playing is the person so I really get to tell you and show you and communicate to you who I think the real person is and that real person is me. The most important thing is to play the human being you are creating, which is my job.
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The sounds of silence are a dim recollection now, like mystery, privacy and paying attention to one thing — or one person — at a time.
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I'd love to be one of MacGyver's buddies. I'd watch that one and just think, wow, what a life. Living in Hawaii, driving around in someone's Ferrari, and solving mysteries.
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The piercing nail has become a key to unlock the door, that I may see the good will of the Lord. And what can I see as I look through the hole? Both the nail and the wound cry out that God was in Christ reconciling the world to himself... Through these sacred wounds we can see the secret of his heart, the great mystery of love.
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What I'm talking about is actually is the Mystery of Being as existential fact. That there is something that haunts this world that can take apart and reduce every single one of us to a mixture of terror and ecstasy, fear and trembling. It is not an idea, that's the primary thing to bear in mind. It's an experience.
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There's no mystery to it. Nothing more complicated than learning lines and putting on a costume.
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I did not look for her, because I was afraid of dispelling the mystery we attach to people whom we know only casually.
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I try to hang on to as much mystery as possible. How can we go through our lives not wanting to have any element of surprise?
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Our desire is to grow so quiet and to work so deeply that we participate fully in the mystery in which we're embedded. When we manage to do that we feel as if we have merged with the universe; for the duration of that experience we feel immortal.
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I doubt if we nuns are really as self-sacrificing as we must seem to be to you who live in the world. We don't give everything for nothing, you know. The mystery plays fair.
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New York was the only really hostile city. Perhaps there is a certain element of the lumpen literati that is so dogmatically atheist and materialist and Earth-bound that it finds the grandeur of space and the myriad mysteries of cosmic intelligence anathema.
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The mystery lies in the use of language to express human life.
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It puts people who are into this psychedelic thing in an entirely different stance from all other spiritual seekers, because all other spiritual seekers are furiously seeking. Psychedelic people are holding it back with all their power, because they are in the presence of the mystery. And then the trick is to get a spigot on it so that it can be turned on and off rather than coming at you like a tidal wave a mile high and twenty miles wide.
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Ironically, gratitude's most powerful mysteries are often revealed when we are struggling in the midst of personal turmoil.
