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

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.

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

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

Women. They are a complete mystery.

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.

What constitutes a real, live human being is more of a mystery than ever these days, and men each one of whom is a valuable, unique experiment on the part of nature are shot down wholesale.

The more violent the storm, the quicker it passes.

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

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

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.

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.

The supernatural is the natural not yet understood.

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

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.

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.

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

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.

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

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

The true mystery of the world is the visible, not the invisible.

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

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

What a nice night for an evening.

I don’t think that faith, whatever you’re being faithful about, really can be scientifically explained. And I don’t want to explain this whole life business through truth, science. There’s so much mystery. There’s so much awe.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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.

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

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.

Remember that before ‚Roe v. Wade‘ was decided, there were four states that allowed abortion in the first trimester if that’s what the woman sought: New York, Hawaii, California, Alaska. Other states were shifting. And people were fighting over this issue in state legislatures.

The undiscovered country from whose bourn no traveler returns.

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

Nature is wont to hide herself.

The long, dull, monotonous years of middle-aged prosperity or middle-aged adversity are excellent campaigning weather for the devil.

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

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.

The weather and my mood have little connection. I have my foggy and my fine days within me; my prosperity or misfortune has little to do with the matter.

It is always the unreadable that occurs.

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 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.

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

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.

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

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

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

Either he’s dead or my watch has stopped.

Russia is a riddle wrapped in a mystery inside an enigma.

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

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.

I’m not a good storm-outer… because I forget stuff.

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

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.

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.

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.

The face of a lover is an unknown, precisely because it is invested with so much of oneself. It is a mystery, containing, like all mysteries, the possibility of torment.