mystery

Do you know why the lotus is one of my favorite flowers?" I cocked my head to one side so I could see his expression. He shook his head. "This beautiful flower lives in the most vile, muddy water of swamps and bogs," I said and rubbed the smooth metal of the pendant between my fingers. He frowned. "No, seriously... the grosser the environment, the better," I said. "So let me get this straight. You like a flower that lives in disgusting places?" One of his eyebrows rose. "That ain't right." "No, I love this flower," I corrected. He glanced at me out of the corner of his eye, "Seriously?" "What?" You don't believe me?" "Sure, I believe you. It's just weird." "I'll tell you why, but only if you promise not to laugh," I said. He nodded. Taking a cleansing breath, I rested my head against the seat, closed my eyes, and took that scary first step. "This flower stays in the mud and muck all night long." I peeked at him without moving my head. His face had become set in the smooth lines of one who listens intently. "Then, at sunrise, it climbs toward the light and opens into a pristine bloom. After the sun goes down, the bloom sinks into the mire. Even though it spends the whole night underwater, the flower emerges every morning as beautiful as the day before." Smiling, I swiveled in my seat to face him. "I love this flower because it reminds me that we get second chances every day, no matter what muck life drags us through.

No matter which way you dice it, self-preservation is selfish.

There are some things you cannot explain to anyone, even whey they have been explained to you, over and over, almost since the day you were born.

Weird is my personality, Complicated are my words and Mystery I am but those what gets you to like me.

Why "revere" the unknowable? Why not find out what it is?

You look at me as if I were a conjuror,' Holmes remarked, with a laugh.

Anonymity crowned him as if t'were the halo of romantic glory.

Charm is deceptive, Wise is sly, having talent is impressive and that puzzles you why. I, but not you, know the mask that I wear. Like how a master knows its masterpiece which is unknown to the world.

I tried to lose myself in school and friends as best as I was able, trying to put Dorian's world out of my mind. But that was pretty much impossible with Clarrisa's constant, homicidally cheerful presence, which was, I supposed, something like making friends with a live grenade.

It takes a certain kind of man willing to work long, grueling hours in a career offering few rewards.

That evening we sat in the courtyard of the hotel once more, watching the sun sink below the western isles. I told Alexi what had happened that day. I fancied I could glimpse the grey stone wall of Lismore House on its island hilltop, the red light of the setting sun glinting from the windows, and from there the wasted frame of Jonathan Blake gazing out across the sea, on nothing, his boy waiting for him to die. But it was my fantasy, simply the image on my mind, like the image burned on to your eyes when you have stared too long at the sun, the passing footprint of a creature long gone.

We fail so easily to see the difference between fear of the unknown and respect for the unknown, thinking that those who do not hasten in with bright lights and knives are deterred by a holy and superstitious fear. Respect for the unknown is the attitude of those who, instead of raping nature, woo her until she gives herself. But what she gives, even then, is not the cold clarity of the surface but the warm inwardness of the body - a mysteriousness which is not merely a negation, a blank absence of knowledge, but that positive substance which we call wonderfull.

Did somebody die?___es,_ I replied.__ho?_ he asked, starting to freak out. I pulled out my notepad and asked him if he knew a Marcie Tucker. __arcie? Hm, Marcie, it doesn't ring a bell but_ Oh yeah, the temp who's filling in while my regular assistant is out, I think her name is Marcie. In fact, she was supposed to be here today. I was actually starting to worry that_ Wait. Is she___nfortunately yes,_ I said, __arcie was found in her apartment late last night uh_ no longer alive._ My bedside manner has never been my strong suit.Dr. Taggart looked distressed and began to ramble incoherently for a minute. I let him work through it though, I figured it was his way of grieving. I wouldn't have even paid attention to it except for the fact that it was kind of goofily, ineptly_ well, poignant:"Oh, uh, Oh my God. That's terrible. I uh_ I hope she didn't have any family. I mean, I don't hope she didn't have any family, what I mean is, if she uh_ if she didn't have any family then there would be nobody to get all bummed out about this and uh_ you know, when something like this happens, you always think about the poor, heartbroken family, so uh_ if she doesn't have any family then uh_ the bright side would be that nobody would, you know, have to be all bummed out."Hm. I guess I never thought of it that way. Awkward wording aside, he's kind of got a point there.

Come in." The kid turned and walked toward the house. "I'll help you if I can." He paused, his brown eyes turned toward Stacy who now stood open-mouthed. "But you'll have to do something for me in return." I frowned. "Like what?" "Hide me from my mother," he said. His eyes were shiny with fresh tears. I snorted. "Do you mean your mother, the beauty queen?" "No," he said softly. His face suddenly seemed older. "I mean my mother, the monster.

Let certain things be uncertain.Appreciate the puzzle that life is,insofar as I know, after a scheme of steps,all Crosswords have a solution,and every Sudoku makes a lot of sense.

i wonder if he is seeking me; as i am seeking him. I dont know what he looks like; but i know one thing for sure, the moment i feel his soul, my entire world will change.

Hustling sex for cash ain__ dangerous if you learn the tricks quick, and that means puttin_ yourself in a different mindset. Always scout for an exit for when you need it. Act confident and tough and you won__ get hurt. Being scared or nervous will get you cut up and stuffed in a fuckin_ bag.

I don't believe this," Diesel said. "It just gets worse and worse. Bad I enough I have to play cupid to a butcher, button maker and veterinarian...now have to be sex therapist for a guy who gives people a rash.