Quotes About Inevitability

ineluctably.

There was an inevitability about the road towards each other which encouraged meandering along the route.

begins with you walking towards a huge pit. The pit is on the other side of a precipice, which you cannot see over until you are right at its edge. Your death is awaiting you in that pit. You don't know what it looks like or sounds like or smells like. You don't know whether it will be good or bad. You just walk towards it. Your will is a clarinet and your footsteps are attended by all the violins. The closer you get to the pit, the more you begin to have the

This realm of Pauline's--the realm of the so sad--is immutable and inevitable, like hurricanes and tsunamis. No particular angst is attached to it. Normally, this is bearable; today it is obscene. So sad is too distant from Pauline's existence, which is only disappointing. It makes disappointing look like a blessing. This must be why news of it is always so welcome, so satisfying.

Death lives with us everyday. Indeed our ways of dying are our ways of living. Or should I say our ways of living are our ways of dying?

What need has Death for a cover, and what winds can blow against him? He stands in his high house that overlooks the world.

Everything that happens is according to destiny.

While I understand that all things must come to an end, whether it's a television advertisement or one's life or the world itself, it doesn't make it any easier to deal with.

Death is as unexpected in his caprice as a courtesan in her disdain; but death is truer – Death has never forsaken any man

Necessity takes impartially the highest and the lowest.

Pale Death beats equally at the poor man's gate and at the palaces of kings.

You may drive out Nature with a pitchfork, yet she still will hurry back.

You may drive out nature with a pitchfork, yet she'll be constantly running back.

Pale death, with impartial step, knocks at the hut of the poor and the towers of kings.

Naturam expellas furca, tamen usque revenit. (You may drive nature out with a pitchfork, she will nevertheless come back.)

Pale death knocks with impartial foot at poor men's hovels and king's palaces.

Pale Death with impartial tread beats at the poor man's cottage door and at the palaces of kings.

"Why did you kill her?" the policeman in the rear seat asked…. "They shoot horses, don't they?" I said.

He was dead. Even with practice he would never be any deader.

However aware we are that a certain fate cannot be avoided, we cannot help blaming the person who gets that monster to its feet...and leads it into the room.

The bomb lives only as it is falling.

She could not go back. To the Transients' Hostel. To Kilimanjaro West, her home. To Armitage-Weir and her warm, friendly office. Home. She sat, crushed by a sense of looming inevitability ponderous as a falling moon.

No colour comes after black.

Empires are built and will crumble; even Genghis Khan did not live forever.