mystery

Madness is loving the unsolvable puzzle of your soul and replacing the lost pieces with my own.

Elizabeth sank into the leather wing chair in the library of her mind and began to read.

Simple spells were light and fun, like a good joke. This spell was as simple as a symphony and as splendid. After adding the last runes, I swirled power through the old spells ensuring they merged with the new spells. The entire castle of spells flexed with the added power, my sign to retreat and hope it worked. Watching the spells bend and move was captivating. One moment they were crawling over each other looking for structure and the next they'd formed a fortress of magic seeking targets, calling them home...."Jones?""Right behind you." He walked around to my left. "How'd it go?""Good. Really good.""I can tell. You're glowing."I thought he was joking until I glanced at my hand. I had to look like a giant firefly. "Narselfart!" He laughed. "Don't worry about it. It's kinda' cute. Besides, those boys" - he jerked his head to indicate the younger cops - "aren't ever going to forget this power show.

A lot of people don't believe in themselves due to their strong negative beliefs. So when they start to see some of the people around them succeeding in life, they become extremely jealous and bitter. This is because they have programmed their subconscious minds to perceive success as a permanent mystery in their lives. But little do they know that the future outcomes of their lives depend on their frequent interpretations of their abilities.

I would appreciate it if they would call a halt on all their devoted efforts to find a way to abolish war or eliminate disease or run trains with atoms or extend the span of the human life to a couple of centuries, and everybody concentrate for a while on how to wake me up in the morning without my resenting it.

Awareness, like wine, is always better for the vintage.--Hugo Anstead

Some friend of yours, perhaps?""Except yourself I have none," he answered. "I do not encourage visitors.

The birds sang in the dustin an elaborate weave, ambiguous,deafening, prey to existencepoor passions lost between the modestsummits of groves of mulberry and elder;and I, like them, in secluded placesreserved for the lost and pure,would wait for evening to fall,for the silent smells of fireand joyous misery to fill the air,for the Angelus bell to toll, veiledin the new peasant mysteryfulfilled in the ancient mystery.

Toulouse Street ran one way toward the Mississippi River. Jackson looked over [Imogene's] head into one of those famous New Orleans courtyards, full of lush foliage, mossy brick, secrets, and wonder.

Enormous oak trees towered over the boulevard, which boasted homes with fine woodwork, wraparound porches, and moss on the sidewalks. 'There__ nothing like a house in New Orleans. Would you look at those balconies and columns?' He rolled his window down to take in the sounds of life in New Orleans.

When you don__ crave increase, you become a mystery

When you live by the demands and supply of life, Life stops being a mystery to you

What would she know about God anyway? The personification of her God, Holmes figured, was surely the popular one: a wrinkled old man sitting omnisciently upon a throne of gold, reigning over creation from within puffy clouds, speaking both graciously and commandingly at the same instant. Her God, no doubt, wore a flowing beard. For Holmes, it was amusing to think that Mrs. Munro's Creator probably looked somewhat like himself- except her God existed as a figment of imagination, and he did not (at least not entirely, he reasoned).

Don't worry. Chivalry has practically no appeal for me whatsoever. -- Neville Fletcher

Maybe life isn't for everyone,Sometimes you do things to start anew life.But the new paths will always bring you back to the old ones or just show a glimpse of it so that you again go through those thousand memories.and no matter how much you try to get rid of the old shoe, Life will bring you to a certain point where you would want to throw off the new shoe and wear the old one back again..and Maybe, maybe you would or maybe you would not.For who knows, We re mysterious beings in these mysterious world trying to figure out our existence.

Rosy waited as long as she dared then sat forward and let her eye rove Franny__ lounge, up and down the shelves, looking for something, not even sure she could bring herself to act if she saw it again, already convinced this was her worst ever idea

Covert operations relied on the unguarded slip, the unconscious choosing of one word over another.

From Chapter 11 "Rainy Day Puppy" ("The Missing Tulip Bulbs"): The next few days were hard on the family. It rained. It was cold. Winter had returned. The puppy grew and gained energy equal to a neutron bomb. He bounced and chewed and barked.Everyone was exhausted, except for the puppy. -