London is too full of fogs and serious people. Whether the fogs produce the serious people, or whether the serious people produce the fogs, I don’t know.

The more unintelligent a man is, the less mysterious existence seems to him.

Either he’s dead or my watch has stopped.

For me, time is the greatest mystery of all. The fact is that we’re dreaming all the time. That’s what really gets me. We have a fathomless lake of unconsciousness just beneath our skulls.

Beauty is mysterious as well as terrible. God and devil are fighting there, and the battlefield is the heart of man.

The Bermuda Triangle got tired of warm weather. It moved to Alaska. Now Santa Claus is missing.

The secret of my influence has always been that it remained secret.

Truth is mysterious, elusive, always to be conquered. Liberty is dangerous, as hard to live with as it is elating. We must march toward these two goals, painfully but resolutely, certain in advance of our failings on so long a road.

It is always the unreadable that occurs.

Hawaii is paradise. It sounds cheesy to say it, but there’s music in the air there.

The human body is strange and flawed and unpredictable. The human body has many secrets, and it does not divulge them to anyone, except those who have learned to wait.

We have to stop and be humble enough to understand that there is something called mystery.

Long stormy spring-time, wet contentious April, winter chilling the lap of very May; but at length the season of summer does come.

The more violent the storm, the quicker it passes.

There’s nowhere else like London. Nothing at all, anywhere.

‚Mystic River‘ just smelled interesting to me. So I read it and liked it right away. Even the dialogue in it was great.

Scientific views end in awe and mystery, lost at the edge in uncertainty, but they appear to be so deep and so impressive that the theory that it is all arranged as a stage for God to watch man’s struggle for good and evil seems inadequate.

I have always loved blizzards, if only because of the driving experience – which is definitely an acquired taste.

The union of the Word and the Mind produces that mystery which is called Life… Learn deeply of the Mind and its mystery, for therein lies the secret of immortality.

In writing, I apply my feminine side and respect the mystery involved in creation.

Happiness is a mystery, like religion, and should never be rationalised.

I agree with people like Richard Dawkins that mankind felt the need for creation myths. Before we really began to understand disease and the weather and things like that, we sought false explanations for them. Now science has filled in some of the realm – not all – that religion used to fill.

One may say the eternal mystery of the world is its comprehensibility.

Our present moment is a mystery that we are part of. Here and now is where all the wonder of life lies hidden. And make no mistake about it, to strive to live completely in the present is to strive for what already is the case.

I was enjoying myself writing, because I don’t know what’s going to happen when I take a ride around that corner. You don’t know at all what you’re going to find there. That can be thrilling when you read a book, especially when you’re a kid and you’re reading stories.

I was brought up to understand Darwin’s theory of evolution. I spent hours and hours in the Natural History Museum in London looking at the descriptions of how different kinds of animals had evolved, looking at the sequence of fossil bones looking gradually more and more and more and more like the modern fossil.

It’s wonderful to be here in the great state of Chicago.

Sunshine is delicious, rain is refreshing, wind braces us up, snow is exhilarating; there is really no such thing as bad weather, only different kinds of good weather.

Our existence is beyond our explanation, whether we believe in God or we have religion or we’re atheist. Our existence is beyond our understanding. No one has an answer.

Climate is what we expect, weather is what we get.

I didn’t consider myself a fashion designer at all at the time of punk. I was just using fashion as a way to express my resistance and to be rebellious. I came from the country, and by the time I got to London, I considered myself to be very stupid. It was my ambition to understand the world I live in.

Predicting rain doesn’t count. Building arks does.

The only things one can admire at length are those one admires without knowing why.

If the Almighty were to rebuild the world and asked me for advice, I would have English Channels round every country. And the atmosphere would be such that anything which attempted to fly would be set on fire.

There is no such thing as bad weather, only different kinds of good weather.

It’s a mystery. That’s the first thing that interests me about the idea of God. If there is one, it’s mysterious and powerful and awesome to even consider the concept, and you have to take it seriously.

I love artists like Prince, who hold on to that element of mystery.

You can’t get too much winter in the winter.

One can find so many pains when the rain is falling.

It’s always wonderful to get to know women, with the mystery and the joy and the depth. If you can make a woman laugh, you’re seeing the most beautiful thing on God’s Earth.

The job of the artist is always to deepen the mystery.

We lived in a tall, narrow Victorian house, which my parents had bought very cheaply during the war, when everyone thought London was going to be bombed flat. In fact, a V-2 rocket landed a few houses away from ours. I was away with my mother and sister at the time, but my father was in the house.

The Bay of Bengal is hit frequently by cyclones. The months of November and May, in particular, are dangerous in this regard.

Still round the corner there may wait, A new road or a secret gate.

London is a roost for every bird.

London is a modern Babylon.

A box without hinges, key, or lid, yet golden treasure inside is hid.

Lightning is something which, again, we would rather avoid.

In the Spring, I have counted 136 different kinds of weather inside of 24 hours.

Eventually you won’t think of ‚the Internet business.‘ You’ll think of it more like news, weather, sports, but even that taxonomy isn’t clear.

San Francisco is gone. Nothing remains of it but memories.

Should there be cameras everywhere in outdoor streets? My personal view is having cameras in inner cities is a very good thing. In the case of London, petty crime has gone down. They catch terrorists because of it. And if something really bad happens, most of the time you can figure out who did it.

I was born in London in England in 1934. I went through, as a child, the horrors of World War II, through a time when food was rationed and we learned to be very careful, and we never had more to eat than what we needed to eat. There was no waste. Everything was used.

How great is the mystery of the first cells which were one day animated by the breath of our souls! How impossible to decipher the welding of successive influences in which we are forever incorporated! In each one of us, through matter, the whole history of the world is in part reflected.

All the world lies warm in one heart, yet the Sierra seems to get more light than other mountains. The weather is mostly sunshine embellished with magnificent storms, and nearly everything shines from base to summit – the rocks, streams, lakes, glaciers, irised falls, and the forests of silver fir and silver pine.

The first step towards vice is to shroud innocent actions in mystery, and whoever likes to conceal something sooner or later has reason to conceal it.

Mystery creates wonder and wonder is the basis of man’s desire to understand.

People from all over the world come to London wanting to make their own mark on it, and they add to the energy and vitality of the capital. It’s got a bit busier since the ’60s, but the more the merrier!

A good many things go around in the dark besides Santa Claus.

The man who can dominate a London dinner-table can dominate the world.

There could be shadow galaxies, shadow stars, and even shadow people.