Cryptic Quotes

“I don’t eat cauliflower,” said Tizzard after thinking about it for a while. “My dad says that ‘a cauliflower is nothing but a cabbage with a college education’.”
“I think that’s Mark Twain,” said Windflower.
“And my dad,” said Tizzard.”
― Mike Martin, Too Close For Comfort

“Comes the tipping point in life, when we decide to a ‘stop and search’ and our emotional police bring us to a standstill. This allows us to scan all the little details in the spectrum of our being; scour all fuzzy or cryptic elements that are floating around in our mind and restore the fault lines in the cluttered tale of our life. ("The world was somewhere else")”
― Erik Pevernagie

“Good night. I'm Cinderella without her prince. Do you know where to find me in Tokyo? You won't see me again.”
― Osamu Dazai, Schoolgirl

“When you are standing in the middle of a storm you have two choices: Pray to God that it goes away. Or, start praying to God that he gives you the wisdom to figure out why you're standing in the middle of a storm.”
― Shannon L. Alder

“Truth is not fully explosive, but purely electric. You don't blow the world up with the truth; you shock it into motion.”
― Criss Jami, Healology

“The Tower trembles; the worlds shudder in their courses. The rose feels a chill, as of winter.”
― Stephen King, UR

“Verrà la morte e avrà i tuoi occhi-
questa morte che ci accompagna
dal mattino alla sera, insonne,
sorda, come un vecchio rimorso
o un vizio assurdo. I tuoi occhi
saranno una vana parola,
un grido taciuto, un silenzio.
Così li vedi ogni mattina
quando su te sola ti pieghi
nello specchio. O cara speranza,
quel giorno sapremo anche noi
che sei la vita e sei il nulla.

Per tutti la morte ha uno sguardo.
Verrà la morte e avrà i tuoi occhi.
Sarà come smettere un vizio,
come vedere nello specchio
riemergere un viso morto,
come ascoltare un labbro chiuso.
Scenderemo nel gorgo muti.”
― Cesare Pavese, Verrà la morte e avrà i tuoi occhi

“Who I really am, you don't want to see.”
― Elizabeth Carlton, The Royal Rogue

“I glory in the emotionally commonplace”
― Lionel Shriver, We Need to Talk About Kevin

“How convenient it is to declare that everything is totally ugly within the habit of the époque, rather than applying oneself to extract from it the dark and cryptic beauty, however faint and invisible it is.”
― Charles Baudelaire, Selected Writings on Art and Literature

“You cannot be certain of what you create.”
― Trista DiGiuseppi, Nails Jane

“...this cryptic game of hide-and-seek is what makes it one of the greatest historical mysteries. So many of the symbols can be interpreted in so many different ways, there's always the possibility that all we're really looking at is a blank slate onto which anything can be read.”
― Brad Meltzer, History Decoded: The 10 Greatest Conspiracies of All Time

“I don’t believe in pain killers. I expect to fix the source of the pain.”
― Honeysuckle Pear, Samantha's Journey into Real Magic - part 1

“May the Code replicate eternal.”
― Amanda Orneck, Sister of the Circuit

“But for some reason or other Curwen did not care for society. Whilst never actually rebuffing a visitor, he always reared such a wall of reserve that few could think of anything to say to him which would not sound inane. There seemed to lurk in his bearing some cryptic, sardonic arrogance, as if he had come to find all human beings dull through having moved among stranger and more potent entities.”
― H.P. Lovecraft, The Case of Charles Dexter Ward

“What is reality? If it feels real, looks real, is it not so?”
― Kerri Maniscalco, Throne of the Fallen

“Reality was the dolphin.”
― Philip Henry, Dreamwalker

“Psychic spies from China try to steal your mind's elation
And little girls from Sweden dream of silver screen quotation
And if you want these kind of dreams it's Californication...

Marry me, girl, be my fairy to the world, be my very own constellation
A teenage bride with a baby inside getting high on information
And buy me a star on the boulevard, it's Californication”
― Red Hot Chilli Peppers

“she’s offering me more cryptic phrases with a depth to them that even the top-ranked philosophers would have a difficult time decoding.”
― Kayla Krantz, The Council

“I do not know
Whether I spoke or heard
The word
That fills all silence.”
― Kathleen Raine, The Collected Poems of Kathleen Raine

“...so much beauty in the dark. I'd eternally wonder why we dread it!”
― Funso 'niyi-Oladele

“The town of London, Georgia, was on a grid, with the old-fashioned town square in the center. Smack in the middle of the square, the courthouse rose above the other buildings. Constructed of red brick, with white ionic columns lining the front, the courthouse sported a clock tower with a copper dome that had developed a green patina after years of oxidation. The residents jokingly called it the “The Tower of London” for the historic castle in London, England. But while the English tower housed the Crown Jewels, the Georgian tower graced the building where citizens of London paid their parking tickets. The only Beefeaters at this Tower of London were the retirees who ate steak and eggs and played checkers at the diner nearby.
Established by a few founding families who had sailed over from its namesake city a couple hundred years ago seeking religious freedom, London leaned into its Anglophile origin. On the corner of the town square sat the Olde Towne Shoppe— and that was “Shoppe” with an E at the end— which sold everything from “Werewolf of London” tees to English breakfast teas.
Rumors abounded about the religion the founding families had needed freedom to practice, and people whispered that the families hadn’t just brought old-world culture and Christianity but also old-world demons. The blood-sucking, fangy ones. Londoners didn’t put any stock in the vampire tales, but they provided great fodder for tourism, much like trolls in Norway and Mothman in Point Pleasant, West Virginia. The Shoppe took tourists on walking tours called “Legends of London: A Bite on the Town,” sharing stories of the macabre and selling fruit punch in pouches designed to look like blood bags from the Red Cross.
Yet there were other stories that floated down from generation to generation— ones that weren’t touted on the tours, about mysterious deaths and other odd happenings in their town. Londoners whispered of people disappearing overnight and secret rooms behind bookshelves where the undead hid their victims. When Mina’s third-grade teacher had passed away suddenly halfway through the year, kids swore weeks later that they’d seen her lurking around the playground at night. Mina knew this was all just folklore but still loved to hear the stories. Maybe because she considered herself a mystery of London.”
― Melanie Dale, Girl of Lore