Enigma

Then something—something struggling violently—was lifted high against the sky, a black, vague enigma against the starlight; and as this black object came down again, I saw by the green brightness that it was a man.

51 The mightiest men have hitherto always bowed reverently before the saint, as the enigma of self-subjugation and utter voluntary privation—why did they thus bow?

I should have thought her too reasonable to be led by imagination.” “A problem, my dear count, for everyone—for my mother as well as others; much studied, but not solved, you still remain an enigma, do not fear.

Why is it that when you awake to the world of realities you nearly always feel, sometimes very vividly, that the vanished dream has carried with it some enigma which you have failed to solve?

The universe appeared to him like an immense malady; everywhere he felt fever, everywhere he heard the sound of suffering, and, without seeking to solve the enigma, he strove to dress the wound.

Elation must have been in his heart, but his face did not reflect it: ever a dark and solitary enigma, he stood aloof from his followers in spirit as in substance.

What selfevident enigma pondered with desultory constancy during 30 years did Bloom now, having effected natural obscurity by the extinction of artificial light, silently suddenly comprehend?

These Sherarat helots were an enigma of the desert.

I wanted dreadfully to understand the enigma of the boots.

The rocks lay static and rigid in their watchful enigma, fading yearly before the onslaught of wind-driven sand.

It is said that his death arose from vexation, at not having been able to unravel an enigma proposed by some fishermen's children.

As he went towards the back of the house, where was Valentin’s study, he was surprised to meet his daughter, who swept past with a white, scornful face, which was a second enigma.

↩︎ Hartzenbusch, considering “adventure” unintelligible, would substitute “enigma” or “prophecy” for it; and “explain” for “achieve;” but absolute consistency in a burlesque passage like this is scarcely worth insisting upon.

To German intelligence, Major—de Coverley was a vexatious enigma; not one of the hundreds of American prisoners would ever supply any concrete information about the elderly white-haired officer with the gnarled and menacing brow and blazing, powerful eyes who seemed to spearhead every important advance so fearlessly and successfully.