Grimalkin yawned and licked his whiskers. 'Not dead,' he replied. 'Hardly dead. But she changed her name and appearance so many times, even the oldest fey would hardly remember her. She likes to keep a low profile, you know.' Puck frowned, knitting his bows together. 'Then how is it you remember her?' he demanded, sounding indignant. 'I am a cat,' purred Grimalkin.
Julie KagawaTag: mystery cat long-memory smug
I think to be driven to want to kill must be such a terrible burden".
Ruth RendellTag: mystery ruth-rendell
She believed not in divine salvation but in the proposition that we poor mortals are fully capable of saving ourselves, if conditions and inclinations are right, and the evidence of this potential is found in the smallest of gestures, like the uncertain resting of a large hand on a bony shoulder.
Jeffery DeaverI wish to confound all these people, to create a work of art of a supernatural realism and of a spiritualist naturalism. I wish to prove... that nothing is explained in the mysteries which surround us.
Joris-Karl HuysmansTag: art mystery supernatural realism
We have come from all the countries of the world and are going to Saintes-Maries de la Mer. Nomads of the enigma, we gather there each year after having carried our mystery through ordinary countryside and fluid towns. Since we become transformed by our wanderings we are despised by those who stand still and retain a memory of giant serpents and metallic green.
Raymond QueneauTag: mystery surrealism
I'm a conundrum. Or an enigma. I forget which.
James A. OwenTag: humor mystery personality
I'm sixty-nine years old, and I have no plans to run for reelection. Do you think I give a damn?
John HartTag: mystery
There was no one alive who did not contribute his share of mystery to the world.
Kevin BrockmeierTag: world people wonder mystery
I did not look for her, because I was afraid of dispelling the mystery we attach to people whom we know only casually.
ColetteTag: people mystery acquaintances
Tito snored away on the other bed. Out there, all around them to the last fringes of occupancy, were Toobfreex at play in the video universe, the tropic isle, the Long Branch Saloon, the Starship Enterprise, Hawaiian crime fantasies, cute kids in make-believe living rooms with invisible audiences to laugh at everything they did, baseball highlights, Vietnam footage, helicopter gunships and firefights, and midnight jokes, and talking celebrities, and a slave girl in a bottle, and Arnold the pig, and here was Doc, on the natch, caught in a low-level bummer he couldn’t find a way out of, about how the Psychedelic Sixties, this little parenthesis of light, might close after all, and all be lost, taken back into darkness…
Thomas PynchonTag: drugs mystery sixties noir surf-rock
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