Joe Orton (1933–1967) English playwright and author
Loot (1965), Act II
Loot (1965), Act II
Joe Orton (1933–1967) English playwright and author
Loot (1965), Act II
Joe Orton (1933–1967) English playwright and author
Loot (1965), Act II
Gottfried de Purucker (1874–1942) Author, Theosophist
Ch 2
Man in Evolution (1941)
Henri-Frédéric Amiel (1821–1881) Swiss philosopher and poet
30 December 1850
Journal Intime (1882), Journal entries
Context: The relation of thought to action filled my mind on waking, and I found myself carried toward a bizarre formula, which seems to have something of the night still clinging about it: Action is but coarsened thought; thought become concrete, obscure, and unconscious. It seemed to me that our most trifling actions, of eating, walking, and sleeping, were the condensation of a multitude of truths and thoughts, and that the wealth of ideas involved was in direct proportion to the commonness of the action (as our dreams are the more active, the deeper our sleep). We are hemmed round with mystery, and the greatest mysteries are contained in what we see and do every day. In all spontaneity the work of creation is reproduced in analogy. When the spontaneity is unconscious, you have simple action; when it is conscious, intelligent and moral action.
Yevgeny Yevtushenko (1932–2017) Russian poet, film director, teacher
"Mysteries" (1960), st. 10; Dimitri Obolensky (ed.) The Heritage of Russian Verse (Bloomington: Indiana University Press, 1976) p. 452.
“Your heart's desire is to be told some mystery. The mystery is that there is no mystery.”
Cormac McCarthy (1933) American novelist, playwright, and screenwriter
Source: Blood Meridian, or the Evening Redness in the West
Jack Vance book The Many Worlds of Magnus Ridolph
The Unspeakable McInch (p. 39; all ellipses in the original)
Short fiction, The Many Worlds of Magnus Ridolph (1966)
Clifford D. Simak book Time and Again
Source: Time and Again (1951), Chapter I (p. 6)
Context: There is mystery here, but a soft, sure mystery that is understood and only remains a mystery because I want it so. The mystery of the nighthawk against a darkening sky, the puzzle of the firefly along the lilac hedge.