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

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

A wonderful fact to reflect upon, that every human creature is constituted to be that profound secret and mystery to every other.

Crazy players love me. I don’t know why.

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

I’m leaving because the weather is too good. I hate London when it’s not raining.

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.

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

Not only does God play dice, but… he sometimes throws them where they cannot be seen.

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

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.

Women. They are a complete mystery.

Curiosity killed the cat, but for a while I was a suspect.

The undiscovered country from whose bourn no traveler returns.

The guys who won World War II and that whole generation have disappeared, and now we have a bunch of teenage twits.

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.

Curiosity is lying in wait for every secret.

It was one of those March days when the sun shines hot and the wind blows cold: when it is summer in the light, and winter in the shade.

What a nice night for an evening.

Faith minus vulnerability and mystery equals extremism. If you’ve got all the answers, then don’t call what you do ‚faith.‘

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

I find in my poetry and prose the rhythms and imagery of the best – I mean, when I’m at my best – of the good Southern black preachers. The lyricism of the spirituals and the directness of gospel songs and the mystery of blues are in my music or in my poetry and prose, or I missed everything.

It was the experience of mystery – even if mixed with fear – that engendered religion.

The reproduction of mankind is a great marvel and mystery. Had God consulted me in the matter, I should have advised him to continue the generation of the species by fashioning them out of clay.

Predicting rain doesn’t count. Building arks does.

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

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

To the lover of wilderness, Alaska is one of the most wonderful countries in the world.

Men who have reached and passed forty-five, have a look as if waiting for the secret of the other world, and as if they were perfectly sure of having found out the secret of this.

I have been in meetings where a head of state will say, ‚I like your tie,‘ to a man… or, ‚I like your country because the weather’s good,‘ or whatever. So for me, the pins in some ways were openers.

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.

Three can keep a secret, if two of them are dead.

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.

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

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

If you saw a heat wave, would you wave back?

I was one of the wildest Santa Clauses they ever had.

No matter what, I always make it home for Christmas. I love to go to my Tennessee Mountain Home and invite all of my nieces and nephews and their spouses and kids and do what we all like to do – eat, laugh, trade presents and just enjoy each other… and sometimes I even dress up like Santa Claus!

Both the man of science and the man of action live always at the edge of mystery, surrounded by it.

The only secrets are the secrets that keep themselves.

Life is a succession of lessons which must be lived to be understood. All is riddle, and the key to a riddle is another riddle.

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.

Democracy is only a dream: it should be put in the same category as Arcadia, Santa Claus, and Heaven.

It is always the unreadable that occurs.

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

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

It is the flash which appears, the thunderbolt will follow.

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.

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.

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.

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.

An elusive, enigmatic aura will make people want to know more, drawing them into your circle. Create such a power by hinting at something contradictory within you.

To me, ideology is corrupt; it’s a parasite on religious structures. To be an ideologue is to have all of the terrible things that are associated with religious certainty and none of the utility. If you’re an ideologue, you believe everything that you think. If you’re religious, there’s a mystery left there.

The greatest delight which the fields and woods minister is the suggestion of an occult relation.

Thunder is good, thunder is impressive; but it is lightning that does the work.

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

The more violent the storm, the quicker it passes.

Thaw with her gentle persuasion is more powerful than Thor with his hammer. The one melts, the other breaks into pieces.

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

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.

If you try and take a cat apart to see how it works, the first thing you have on your hands is a nonworking cat.