Only God is the Giver and Master of Creativity and imagination because they are gifts that can only come from Him Alone!

Every life is a mystery. And every story of every life is a mystery. But it is not what happens that is the mystery. It is whether it has to happen no matter what, whether...

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.

Mary believes that at the center of everyone is a mystery. And the idea that you can sum up a person in two hours, to say that this one event or this one person is...

I often wear camouflaged pants so when I walk I look like a floating torso. I love with the same air of mystery.

She doesn’t give directions but there is a pot of gold at the end of her rainbow…Find it. If you can.

If man could apply half the ingenuity he’s exhibited in the creation of weapons to more sensible ends, there’s no limit to what he might yet accomplish

The less theorizing you do about God, the more receptive you are to His inpouring.

Are you saying that being a criminal is a matter of opinion?” I asked.Qwerty smiled, but it was sad around the edges. “No,” he said. “It’s a matter of handcuffs.

What a night. Booze, broads, and a barroom brawl.

I don’t know who you are,” she thought, “but whoever you are, you’re one hell of a player.

Protector and destroyer were two sides of the same coin. Who knew which one would come out in a toss-up?

I use the word mystery,rather than magic.I love magic.something magic was always going to happen. When it did, it never did anything but land me in trouble. MYSTERY is the depth of the sacred.Page 33...

It would be, like all of Pammy’s parties, hot and crowded and filled with impossibly glamorous people with hip bones so sharp they could qualify as concealed weapons.

…every life is like a snowflake: individual existences might look identical from afar, but to understand one´s own eternally mysterious uniqueness one had only to plot the mysteries of one´s own snowflake.

Ah,steeds,steeds,what is steeds! Has the whirlwind a home in your manes? Is there a sensitive ear, alert as a flame, in your every fiber? Hearing the familiar song from above, all in one accord you...

Goodnight Taylor.

Like many great world faiths, Mormonism has an important strand of sacred mystery. Mormon temples have traditionally been closed to outsiders and designed with opaque windows.

He wrote to his father every day. His platoon called his dad a girlfriend.

The ‘Muse’ is not an artistic mystery, but a mathematical equation. The gift are those ideas you think of as you drift to sleep. The giver is that one you think of when you first...

It was the fear of good things happening, because they, sooner or later, would lead to something bad.

Well, it’s an anomaly! He must have received the wrong dosage. That’s what happens when you put these matters in the hands of morons.

Lies can be expensive to maintain, Alexa. And I’m sure we haven’t seen one percent of the price that the lies in this case ultimately will exact.

No, I would not want to live in a world without dragons, as I would not want to live in a world without magic, for that is a world without mystery, and that is a...

Love is an endless mystery, because there is no reasonable cause that could explain it.

I was sitting at the bar of the Hegira that night when Ginny came in. The barkeep, an ancient sad-eyed patriarch named Jose, had just poured me another drink, and I was having one of...

So many doors around here, I’m surprised your name isn’t Monty Hall.

His attitude to physical clues was rather like that of the modern Christian to miracles. They could happen, but probably not just at the moment.

People usually feel funny, smile and laugh when I tell them about my strong belief in the very existence of prehistoric advanced technology and great civilizations of wilier races. I just can’t wait to see...

I feel like I’ve been ironing all day in high heels and no brassiere. ~Tizzy Donovan, Laid Out and Candle Lit

Oh how I’ve missed you, Holmes.

If he can’t reach you he can’t hit youIf he can’t hit you he can’t hurt you

She had been lying there, facedown in the water long before the tide had turned at 3.04 that morning. Her eyes were staring into the river, her blonde hair first fanning out, then drawing back...

Often the hands will solve a mystery that the intellect has struggled with in vain.

Mr. Satterthwaite looked cheered. Suddenly an idea struck him. His jaw fell. “My goodness,” he cried, “I’ve only just realized it! That rascal, with his poisoned cocktail! Anyone might have drunk it! It might have...

Perfection seems sterile; it is final, no mystery in it; it’s a product of an assembly line.

Wondrous as it is, how simple is this mystery! To love Christ and to know that I love Him–this is all!

My dear Prue, we are the inheritors of a wonderful world, a beautiful world, full of life and mystery, goodness and pain. But likewise are we children of an indifferent universe. We break our own...

They had just digested a recent meal of prepositions and were happily farting out apostrophes and ampersands; the air was heav’y with th’em&.

Expansion of character is connected to expansion of destiny.

There are some secrets which do not permit themselves to be told. Men die nightly in their beds, wringing the hands of ghostly confessors, and looking them piteously in the eyes — die with despair...

No matter how offensive she’s been to me, she continues to act as if she has some sort of God-given right to keep coming back for more favors.

Mystical experience needs some form of dogma in order not to dissipate into moments of spiritual intensity that are merely personal, and dogma needs regular infusions of unknowingness to keep from calcifying into the predictable,...

I want to keep you, till the end of days.

This guy looks like a murderer trying to look like a normal guy trying to look like a murder. Could he be the killer? Only if M.C. Escher is the victim.

Emotional speculation is to deductive reasoning what weeds are to a garden – at first sight they appear to belong, but eventually they obscure that which one hopes will come into bud.

Oh Moon, sweet, sweet Moon, I want to be naked on you. I want to be like a flower growing on your surface, unique and mysterious, at home in the wonder of you, as if...

Doomed to Hell. Every last one of you.

Apparently, we’re all in the frame,” I heard Harry murmur somewhere behind me. And I whirled back to him. Innate, irrational anger surged. Then stopped, dead – as I suddenly took in Handsome, Robert and...

But one day she handed me some more letters from people who had been researching fruitlessly through old newspapers, hoping to find the “real” events. I remarked that it was sad they wasted so much...