Everything in life is a mystery. It’s hard to know what is really any more. The more our spiritual lives expand the more mysterious the universe gets. But where would be the fun in life if there was not mystery involved.
It’s a mystery why girls wear ugg boots or people press the “close door” button on the elevator (it doesn’t close any quicker). Why you would beep in traffic jams or wear the number 13.
i am a hollowed out cage of bones and tissue
a box with nothing inside of it
and yet you pry me open as if there is still something left to take
there is nothing here; there is no one here.
why do they still pry?
The left wing of a pigeon, a bit of mummy brown, a whisper of breath of the departed: this is what little girls are made of. It’s not a mystery, really, not if you try it once or twice. All this alchemy between men and women to change love into forever, and with one kiss — how silly.
Little girls lie and cheat, and every bit of them is sweet as toffee.
The nature of the human heart is, to me, the mystery of mysteries. Nothing quite like loving, being loved, losing everything, and being left with that achingly slow burning question: why?
She saw the mystery in his eyes and wondered what was going on behind those deep set brown eyes. What stories did he have to tell? Tells of intrigue? Tells of woe? Or just tales that would make me lie on the floor laughing!
He was a mystery. The way he sat, stood, layed in the back of his ca by my side. He never showed feeling. He was emotionless to everyone he met, except me. Why? He showed me his happiness, his anger, his depression, his passion, his love. I knew him. But he was always such a stranger. I want to know more. I want him more than anything else. His mystery draws me in. I want to solve it.
It’s never the same, he muses, bringing the mug slowly to his lips. The coffee is cold by now, bitter on his tongue, but he pays it no mind. There are more important things for him to be worried about, now. A loud crash sounds just outside of the door to his left.
“Speak of the Devil,” he whispers, though why he does is a mystery since there is no one there to hear the statement and even if they were, they would ignore it as surely as though he had never said anything. But the sound, however brief, provides a small grain of comfort to him. For just that moment, he can pretend he is in good company. A second collision outside has him heaving himself out of his chair, reluctantly pushing his thoughts to the back of his mind and reaching for the knife he knows is strapped to the underside of the desk. He is grateful that Rachel prepares for every situation.
As I gazed upon the icy water lapping against the pale yellow sand, I wondered. Wondered on the fact that a person, no less than 24 hours ago, had been lying dead in this very spot. It didn’t make me feel uneasy. I felt pretty normal about it. I mean, it’s not like I didn’t know them very well. I knew them more than anyone in the whole world. The person who’d been lying here, dead, had actually been me. Quite a mystery.
the question was in her head, then in her fingers as she stretched her arm out into the darkness; hitting a smooth slimy surface. SHe let out a small intake of breath when her hand
It’s not that I purposely lose my keys. It’s how they disappear when I’m actually driving the car that’s the mystery. It’s alright once I’m going but it means I have to drive through McDonalds really quickly. I wouldn’t mind except it’s not a drive-through and the sight of scattering spotty teens really puts me off my food.
Nancy Drew introduced it to me. Now I aspire to be a Lady of Mystery. It’s so very, very intriguing. So much better than laying yourself bare. Mystery makes the world go ’round.
There was once a small town with only one man and one pig and a small field. The surrounding towns people were always afraid Togo near that town because there used to be many people living there but ever since the pig moved in they all dissapeAred.
One day a boy and his chicken went to the neiboughing town to see if the man will sell his pig. When he arrived the pig came out to greet him.
” I see you came to talk to my man, you want to buy me! But what you do not know is that I am not his to sell. But he is MINE to sell!! Mwahahahaha!” the pig laughed his evil laugh and then disappeared leaving the man tied to a poll that apeAred right where he was standing. The boy took the man and ran home. Or oshe thought. For he never reached home and no one ever went near the town again!
i know that there are mysteries throughout our lives. my boyfriend keeps screaming “eggs” while i’ll typing this, as if eggs have some sort of ‘mystery’ to them. but, they don’t. but i know that love isn’t a mystery. because, i am in love. and it’s tangible.
Mystery. Mystery is something we all need in our lives. It keeps life interesting and exciting. But it doesn’t help to have too much mystery. You want to be able to trust people without secrets blocking your friendship. Mystery is a good thing and a bad thing.
mystery is the spice of life. it leads us down the twists and turns of our logic and our fractured histories. it forces us to think our way out of corners and to discover the madness behind our reason. mystery makes clear the way in which our thoughts ensnare us in patterns that determine the outcome of our decisions. never shy away from mystery.
mystery spices up our lives. it gives it passion and a purpose to keep moving, to keep living. without mystery we would have an empty life, with no action.
Mystery. At first I thought this said misery, and I was all gung-ho ready to go because there are a milion things I could say about that topic. But about mystery? Hmm I’ma have to think about that one. Well I met this boy, and boy is a he a mystery..in fact all boys are. everybody is. everybodys mind…the world that lives inside their brain. one big mystery. and it intrigues me. people and how they think and the things they do, their reasons..it all intrigues me.
Darling, it’s not what I want, and it’s not what you should want. But it’s what we would like to do together. What we want to do with our lives should be no mystery for you, it’s definitely not one for me, and I don’t understand what’s so difficult. Is there something that you want to say? I’ve already proclaimed my love a thousand times over for you. Is it that hard? To make up your mind about me?
mystery drives us. curiosity. i live for the mystery. i hide from people because that’s how i remain mysterious- interesting. without mystery we have no reason to be here. mystery is what makes our world so crazy, and lovely
There wasn’t something that she wanted to do, there was something she wanted to know. It wasn’t in her direction and even in her best interests to know that. But she wanted to know anyways. Something like this would be revolutionary for her, maybe she would even find out who her parents were. Many things like these didn’t just come around, and besides, Saga enjoyed a good mystery to reinvigorate her days.
This world is full of mystery. Sometimes bad things happen to good people. Sometimes bad things happen to you and stay good for your friends, even if the things they have going for them are actually evil in disguise. Sometimes life isn’t fair. Life is a mystery. Good luck.
Living only with a distant roommate in my dorm, I only had one suspect. That morning, when I saw that all of the Yoohoos were gone, i immediately got angry. I specifically said that those were MINE. She had her own food, and I had mine. However, when I asked her, she swore to me that she hadn’t. Was she lying? Or was this a mystery of the stolen Yoohoos?
It’s a mystery to me where time weaves its memories into our heads like clues to lives that we shed in tears and tissues and sunsets, colors we abandoned that bled into the landscape we outgrew and outran before we began to remember.
The mystery remains to keep us entertained as we try and figure this thing called life out. Please ignore my lack of punctuation, as I make my proclamation, this is simply want I stand to speak about.
music was always a mystery to her. she didn’t understand why some people loved it (or pretended to love it) so damn much. there were the girls who gushed and raved and moaned over the latest hit, or whatever was on the radio; and then there were the genuine artists, the musicians, the ones who seemed in another place entirely when the headphones were on and the world was off. and then she met him, and then she met dubstep and jazz and acoustic and everything outside of mainstream, and then she was in love and the mystery was solved.
You are a mystery. Honestly, all this time spent chasing after you, and all you do is mystify me. I love you, but already I’m jealous of the past. Why do I focus on that? Why can’t I be happy with the way things are now?
mystery. i think life is a mystery. we never know what will happen. we try to plan, we try to achieve dreams and accomplish goals. but we really just never know what in the world is going to happen. we could be everything we dreamed of being and more by next week, or we could be gone forever by tomorrow. its a mystery to be solved one day at a time.
I see you.
You’re alone, disconnected from the rest of us.
I feel the distance between us.
How are you feeling? I want to know.
Are you hurting, like I have before?
Should I talk to you? Can I help? I want to help.
Let me be the one to save you. If I don’t, will somebody else?
They’ve never been there before. I’ve been where you are. Hiding it all.
I can relate to how you feel. Not exactly, but in my own way.
Please don’t leave this world, mysterious stranger.
I’ve found there are people who care, and relate. You just have to open up and find us. We’re here for you.. waiting.
Not knowing something makes it a mystery. So if that’s the case, there are a lot of mysteries in life. Something everyone probably already knows but won’t admit to. Because who likes admitting ignorance?
Yes, he would join us to eat, or talk of a battle strategy, but he never talked about himself, or relaxed and just had a good time. He never wanted to talk about his scar, or his past, or anything casual. Always training and battle.
She was mysterious. The way she seemed to be dancing as she walked, how she never revealed too much about herself, how her hair covered her eyes slightly. It made me want to find out everything I could for her. She drives me wild and it makes me want her even more.
I love mystery stories. The way most authors write books about them is absolutely captivating. It keeps you on the edge of your seat, wondering who did it and what’s going to happen next. It’s definitely a thrill. Plus it ties into how there are many mysteries in life that we are presented with.
Everything in life is a mystery. It’s hard to know what is really any more. The more our spiritual lives expand the more mysterious the universe gets. But where would be the fun in life if there was not mystery involved.
It’s a mystery why girls wear ugg boots or people press the “close door” button on the elevator (it doesn’t close any quicker). Why you would beep in traffic jams or wear the number 13.
i am a hollowed out cage of bones and tissue
a box with nothing inside of it
and yet you pry me open as if there is still something left to take
there is nothing here; there is no one here.
why do they still pry?
The left wing of a pigeon, a bit of mummy brown, a whisper of breath of the departed: this is what little girls are made of. It’s not a mystery, really, not if you try it once or twice. All this alchemy between men and women to change love into forever, and with one kiss — how silly.
Little girls lie and cheat, and every bit of them is sweet as toffee.
The nature of the human heart is, to me, the mystery of mysteries. Nothing quite like loving, being loved, losing everything, and being left with that achingly slow burning question: why?
She saw the mystery in his eyes and wondered what was going on behind those deep set brown eyes. What stories did he have to tell? Tells of intrigue? Tells of woe? Or just tales that would make me lie on the floor laughing!
He was a mystery. The way he sat, stood, layed in the back of his ca by my side. He never showed feeling. He was emotionless to everyone he met, except me. Why? He showed me his happiness, his anger, his depression, his passion, his love. I knew him. But he was always such a stranger. I want to know more. I want him more than anything else. His mystery draws me in. I want to solve it.
It’s never the same, he muses, bringing the mug slowly to his lips. The coffee is cold by now, bitter on his tongue, but he pays it no mind. There are more important things for him to be worried about, now. A loud crash sounds just outside of the door to his left.
“Speak of the Devil,” he whispers, though why he does is a mystery since there is no one there to hear the statement and even if they were, they would ignore it as surely as though he had never said anything. But the sound, however brief, provides a small grain of comfort to him. For just that moment, he can pretend he is in good company. A second collision outside has him heaving himself out of his chair, reluctantly pushing his thoughts to the back of his mind and reaching for the knife he knows is strapped to the underside of the desk. He is grateful that Rachel prepares for every situation.
As I gazed upon the icy water lapping against the pale yellow sand, I wondered. Wondered on the fact that a person, no less than 24 hours ago, had been lying dead in this very spot. It didn’t make me feel uneasy. I felt pretty normal about it. I mean, it’s not like I didn’t know them very well. I knew them more than anyone in the whole world. The person who’d been lying here, dead, had actually been me. Quite a mystery.
the question was in her head, then in her fingers as she stretched her arm out into the darkness; hitting a smooth slimy surface. SHe let out a small intake of breath when her hand
It’s not that I purposely lose my keys. It’s how they disappear when I’m actually driving the car that’s the mystery. It’s alright once I’m going but it means I have to drive through McDonalds really quickly. I wouldn’t mind except it’s not a drive-through and the sight of scattering spotty teens really puts me off my food.
Nancy Drew introduced it to me. Now I aspire to be a Lady of Mystery. It’s so very, very intriguing. So much better than laying yourself bare. Mystery makes the world go ’round.
There was once a small town with only one man and one pig and a small field. The surrounding towns people were always afraid Togo near that town because there used to be many people living there but ever since the pig moved in they all dissapeAred.
One day a boy and his chicken went to the neiboughing town to see if the man will sell his pig. When he arrived the pig came out to greet him.
” I see you came to talk to my man, you want to buy me! But what you do not know is that I am not his to sell. But he is MINE to sell!! Mwahahahaha!” the pig laughed his evil laugh and then disappeared leaving the man tied to a poll that apeAred right where he was standing. The boy took the man and ran home. Or oshe thought. For he never reached home and no one ever went near the town again!
something you want more of. surprises. intense. sudden ending.
i know that there are mysteries throughout our lives. my boyfriend keeps screaming “eggs” while i’ll typing this, as if eggs have some sort of ‘mystery’ to them. but, they don’t. but i know that love isn’t a mystery. because, i am in love. and it’s tangible.
Mystery. Mystery is something we all need in our lives. It keeps life interesting and exciting. But it doesn’t help to have too much mystery. You want to be able to trust people without secrets blocking your friendship. Mystery is a good thing and a bad thing.
organs. eyes. love. life. you. me. it is all, we are nothing. we are all.
mystery is the spice of life. it leads us down the twists and turns of our logic and our fractured histories. it forces us to think our way out of corners and to discover the madness behind our reason. mystery makes clear the way in which our thoughts ensnare us in patterns that determine the outcome of our decisions. never shy away from mystery.
mystery spices up our lives. it gives it passion and a purpose to keep moving, to keep living. without mystery we would have an empty life, with no action.
Mystery. At first I thought this said misery, and I was all gung-ho ready to go because there are a milion things I could say about that topic. But about mystery? Hmm I’ma have to think about that one. Well I met this boy, and boy is a he a mystery..in fact all boys are. everybody is. everybodys mind…the world that lives inside their brain. one big mystery. and it intrigues me. people and how they think and the things they do, their reasons..it all intrigues me.
The mystery was mysterious. The girl was delirious. I hope the joke’s weren’t serious. And niggas didn’t see us.
Darling, it’s not what I want, and it’s not what you should want. But it’s what we would like to do together. What we want to do with our lives should be no mystery for you, it’s definitely not one for me, and I don’t understand what’s so difficult. Is there something that you want to say? I’ve already proclaimed my love a thousand times over for you. Is it that hard? To make up your mind about me?
mystery is really a mystery. i love mystery. it gives life a sparkle and passion to keep moving, and living. without mystery there is nothing to do.
mystery drives us. curiosity. i live for the mystery. i hide from people because that’s how i remain mysterious- interesting. without mystery we have no reason to be here. mystery is what makes our world so crazy, and lovely
Mystery is the flavor of life. Without the unknown, what would life be? A set of rules we have planned. What would life be without mystery?
There wasn’t something that she wanted to do, there was something she wanted to know. It wasn’t in her direction and even in her best interests to know that. But she wanted to know anyways. Something like this would be revolutionary for her, maybe she would even find out who her parents were. Many things like these didn’t just come around, and besides, Saga enjoyed a good mystery to reinvigorate her days.
This world is full of mystery. Sometimes bad things happen to good people. Sometimes bad things happen to you and stay good for your friends, even if the things they have going for them are actually evil in disguise. Sometimes life isn’t fair. Life is a mystery. Good luck.
Living only with a distant roommate in my dorm, I only had one suspect. That morning, when I saw that all of the Yoohoos were gone, i immediately got angry. I specifically said that those were MINE. She had her own food, and I had mine. However, when I asked her, she swore to me that she hadn’t. Was she lying? Or was this a mystery of the stolen Yoohoos?
My mind is a mystery. Why, why, why?
What influences my decisions?
Why am I such a loner?
It’s a mystery to me where time weaves its memories into our heads like clues to lives that we shed in tears and tissues and sunsets, colors we abandoned that bled into the landscape we outgrew and outran before we began to remember.
The mystery remains to keep us entertained as we try and figure this thing called life out. Please ignore my lack of punctuation, as I make my proclamation, this is simply want I stand to speak about.
music was always a mystery to her. she didn’t understand why some people loved it (or pretended to love it) so damn much. there were the girls who gushed and raved and moaned over the latest hit, or whatever was on the radio; and then there were the genuine artists, the musicians, the ones who seemed in another place entirely when the headphones were on and the world was off. and then she met him, and then she met dubstep and jazz and acoustic and everything outside of mainstream, and then she was in love and the mystery was solved.
You are a mystery. Honestly, all this time spent chasing after you, and all you do is mystify me. I love you, but already I’m jealous of the past. Why do I focus on that? Why can’t I be happy with the way things are now?
mystery. i think life is a mystery. we never know what will happen. we try to plan, we try to achieve dreams and accomplish goals. but we really just never know what in the world is going to happen. we could be everything we dreamed of being and more by next week, or we could be gone forever by tomorrow. its a mystery to be solved one day at a time.
I see you.
You’re alone, disconnected from the rest of us.
I feel the distance between us.
How are you feeling? I want to know.
Are you hurting, like I have before?
Should I talk to you? Can I help? I want to help.
Let me be the one to save you. If I don’t, will somebody else?
They’ve never been there before. I’ve been where you are. Hiding it all.
I can relate to how you feel. Not exactly, but in my own way.
Please don’t leave this world, mysterious stranger.
I’ve found there are people who care, and relate. You just have to open up and find us. We’re here for you.. waiting.
Not knowing something makes it a mystery. So if that’s the case, there are a lot of mysteries in life. Something everyone probably already knows but won’t admit to. Because who likes admitting ignorance?
Mystery, puzzle, clues, confusion, unknown. Don’t know who did it, murder cases, detective movies, cheesy scripts, romance, lovers, couch, evidence, solution.
He kept to himself, mostly.
Yes, he would join us to eat, or talk of a battle strategy, but he never talked about himself, or relaxed and just had a good time. He never wanted to talk about his scar, or his past, or anything casual. Always training and battle.
He would remain a mystery.
She was mysterious. The way she seemed to be dancing as she walked, how she never revealed too much about herself, how her hair covered her eyes slightly. It made me want to find out everything I could for her. She drives me wild and it makes me want her even more.
I love mystery stories. The way most authors write books about them is absolutely captivating. It keeps you on the edge of your seat, wondering who did it and what’s going to happen next. It’s definitely a thrill. Plus it ties into how there are many mysteries in life that we are presented with.