Quotes About Inevitability

No man or woman born, coward or brave, can shun his destiny.

You can choose the right shot, you can have a good swing and good technique, you can do everything right, and it can still go wrong. No player, no matter how good, makes one hundred percent of their shots. Some days you lose. They'd drummed that into the children too. You can be number one in the world, you can win and win and win but it's inevitable: eventually you will lose.

No surprise you're in pain, no surprise you're dead. You're old. That's what is meant to happen. We don't care that you forget you're old. We know you're old.

Perhaps all suicides are happy in the end. Perhaps it is at that moment that one feels the real point of it all, which, after you get yourself born, is to die. It is the one thing each and every one of us is programmed for, directed to, and cannot swerve away from indefinitely.

How can life end in the middle of the story? Because life always does.

Det er bare det vi har mistet, som fremstår som evig uforanderlig.

What goes up will surely fall and I'm counting down the time

So many stories are determined before they start

maybe it's inevitable that the very things that first attract you to someone are the same things with which you later grow irritated.

At some point there was no almost.

I felt like it was inevitable that I was going to fail in life and die young. So I was frantically scrambling to document my stunts and pack my message into a bottle. I thought maybe I could be discovered after I'd died, like Van Gogh.

I usually have a general idea of where the story is going, but I try to avoid planning in too much detail. The best endings are those that emerge only after I've thought long and hard about the various ways the story might end. Then I choose the ending that seems surprising yet somehow inevitable.

Among all the vicissitudes of life, which vary in each individual's experience, there is one event which sooner or later comes to everyone - Death!

Cada día te pareces un poco más al cadáver que serás y yo te amo siempre.

This night it would happen, had to happen. Just as it had happened before. Just as it would happen again, and again.

Well, come on, Debs," I said, and I admit I was a little peevish. "You knew this would happen, and it happened, so why should it bother you?" She

I mean, in the end it wasn't up to me. The big things never are. Birth, I mean, and death. And love. And what love bequeaths to use before we're born.

I don't want to ruin your life, Leonard said in a gentler tone. You're not ruining it. The drugs just slow the process down. But the end's inevitable. The question is, how to turn this thing off? He jabbed at his head with his index finger. It's cutting me up, and I can't turn it off. Madeleine, listen to me. Listen. I'm not going to get better.

There is no lock strong enough nor wall thick enough to keep Death out, he murmured, his lips close to my ear so that I could feel the puff of his breath against my skin. The ends of a couple of his braids had found their way under the collar of my flannel night-shirt and tickled the base of my neck. Are you speaking literally or metaphorically?

I don't kill people. Perhaps it's just another inhibition to do away with it. Perhaps not. There's really no way of telling. It's possible I've just never been able to well up enough interest in any person to care long enough to end their life. I'd much rather avoid them altogether. Most of them. It's 4 A.M. and the sky is beautiful up and away from this room and this bed and the oppressive inevitability of sleep. I HATE SLEEP. But sleep always comes (that, or madness).

As strange as it seemed, I knew in my heart that one day her death would affect me, and stranger still, that mine would affect her.

human being could be alive for years and years, thinking and breathing and eating, full of a million worries and feelings and thoughts, taking up space in the world, and then, in an instant, become absent, invisible.

In those six weeks I regarded her arrival as I would the arrival of a coming month, or season - something inevitable, but meaningless at the same time.

The continuous work of our life is to build death.