mystery

What the fuck are cavemen doing here?

These were not the belongings of the past prisoner he had imagined. These were a lady__ things__airpins and stockings and a glove. There were more clues waiting but William no longer felt certain he wanted to know the dark secrets of this cell.

But truly it was not the money that mattered. It was the distant glitter of everything that was possible in the world, the things she had always wanted for herself and could not name and called happiness because there was no other word.

To worship a sacred mystery was just to worship your own ignorance.

A selection of quotes from The Night of Harrison Monk__ Death (Jane Hetherington's Adventures in Detection: 1)"Is this one of the more unusual cases of safe-breaking you've been asked to investigate, Mrs Hetherington?""Remember your private detective wants to be able to sleep soundly at night and in their own bed, not one supplied as her Majesty's pleasure.""It seems to be an open and shut case doesn't it? But it's not you know? How do you know if anything is what it seems?""But where is Cheung kin?""When I first set eyes on your father, he was spying on a man from between two volumes of the Encyclopaedia Britannica.""I don't think I need say more." "On the contrary, if you want me to have any idea what you're talking about, I think you do.""Why don't you report it to the police?" "Because I stole it in the first place didn't I?""It's something of a mystery, I admit.""Vanished into thin air!""You sound so sensible Mrs Hetherington. Please help us get to the bottom of this."Ah, thought Jane _ the old story."No body was found?""Shall I put the kettle on?" "Only if you fill it with whiskey.""The course of true love didn't run smoothly for me either, you know.""Life has its tragedies for sure.""_ What do I want? I want money that's what I want. I want money."She was even more horrified by the words she heard next.Callum MacCallum knew what it was like to be an outsider.

Close your eyes and click your heals three times...because there's no place like Dome.

Anticipation tingled in my stomach: the kind of tingle that at first you don__ know if it__ a good tingle or a bad tingle _ just a tingle.

Every mystery ever solved had been a puzzle from the dawn of the human species right up until someone solved it.

The fig tree grows its flowers strangely inside out, concealed within the soft interior of the fruit. Erszébet imagines the fig's hidden fairy weight of seeds, grown in sweetness that is also a darkness. Like treasure in a cave.

It is a truth universally acknowledged that one only comes up with clever, cutting remarks long after the other party is happily slumbering away.

Martie was large, at least by Inuit standards, with skin the colour of an heirloom suitcase and a voice like a cartoon train wreck.

I can't explain my feelings for him...they're strange. But he says it is why we are so much alike, why I dream of him. He calls it The Craving.

Simon to die. Jace to live. Jonathon to retune. And you Valentine's daughter, to be the catalist of it all.

Calmly, slowly, she reached behind with her left hand and came up against _ yes, fabric. Fine linen, to be precise. So far, so good: she was inside a wardrobe, after all. The only problem was that this linen was oddly warm. Body warm. Beneath the tentative pressure of her palm, it seemed to be moving...With terrifying suddenness, an ungloved hand clamped roughly over her nose and mouth. A long arm pinned her arms against her sides. She was held tightly against a hard, warm surface."Hush," whispered a pair of lips pressed to her left ear. "If you scream, we are both lost.

THERE WAS ALWAYS a boy in your life that common sense and the prayers of parents told you to stay away from: fast talker, fast car, and fast hands. He was the boy your father kept a loaded shotgun by the door for and met on the front porch if he ever thought about venturing onto his property_let alone the threshold. He was the tall, dark, mysteriously handsome, and uncharacter-istically quiet one that made you wonder what was going on in his head, and that little voice in your head said it wasn__ always so honorable. He was the boy you broke all of the rules over because bad-boys equaled excitement and the rebel in you liked the ride.

David could tell, by looking at her face as she read, whether or not the story contained in the book was living inside her, and she in it, and he would recall again all that she had told him about stories and tales and the power that they wield over us, and that we in turn wield over them.

LIPID (Last Idiot Person I Dated) syndrome: a largely undiagnosed but pervasive disease that afflicts single women.

Mystery, why so attractive to me?You blind me with fear, place hope on my tongue, and with a cold kiss draw me forward. Wary and trembling, I follow.