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I think we're all mysteries to ourselves.

The brain is probably the most mysterious subject there is.

Life and consciousness are the two great mysteries. Actually, their substrates are the inanimate. And how do you get from neurons shooting around in the brain to the thought that pops up in your head and mine? There's something deeply mysterious about that. And if you're not struck by the mystery, I think you haven't thought about it.

I just have mysteries in all my books, I think, whether it's a boy investigating or a girl. I have an enduring fascination with mysteries of all kinds.

You know the thing that interests me about 'Unsolved Mysteries?' It's because there are people out there, people who know something, who may have the one final clue.

I know nothing about mysteries. I don't take to them.

It's good to have mysteries. It reminds us that there's more to the world than just making do and having a bit of fun.

I see mysteries and complications wherever I look, and I have never met a steadily logical person.

If there wasn't mystery, people wouldn't have anything to ponder. If you already knew everything, you wouldn't have anything to think about and life would just be really boring.

What's the use of making mysteries? It only makes people want to nose 'em out.