Quotes About Destiny

Mi sono capitate solo un'intelligenza di natura lucida e una buona forza di volontà. Ma questi erano doni naturali, che la mia bassa condizione di nascita non mi poteva togliere.

I came here for no reason, as with everything in life.

Whether or not they exist, we're slaves to the gods.

il Destino è una specie di persona, e smette di tormentarci se mostriamo indifferenti a quello che ci fa.

Com duas mãos - o Ato e o Destino - Desvendamos. No mesmo gesto, ao céu Uma ergue o facho trêmulo e divino E a outra afasta o véu. Fosse a hora que haver ou a que havia A mão que ao Ocidente o véu rasgou, Foi alma a Ciência e o corpo a Ousadia Da mão que desvendou.

A MORTE CHEGA CEDO   A morte chega cedo, Pois breve é toda vida O instante é o arremedo De uma coisa perdida.   O amor foi começado, O ideal não acabou, E quem tenha alcançado Não sabe o que alcançou.   E tudo isto a morte Risca por não estar certo No caderno da sorte

A-Å£i g?si perosnalitatea în faptul de a o pierde,chiar ÅŸi credinÅ£a confirm? acest înÅ£eles al destinului.

Let us always search for the impossible, since that is our destiny, and let us search for it by way of the useless, since no path goes by any other way, but let us rise to the consciousness that nothing we search for can be found, and that nothing along the way deserves a fond kiss or memory.

Infine, sarà quel che dovrà essere.

Nasciamo senza saper parlare e moriamo senza aver saputo dire. La nostra vita trascorre fra il silenzio di chi tace e il silenzio di chi non è stato compreso, e intorno a tutto ciò, come un'ape in un luogo senza fiori, aleggia sconosciuto un inutile destino.

I have enough money to buy food and drink, I have somewhere to live and enough free time in which to dream, write - and sleep - what more can I ask of the gods or hope for from fate? I had great ambitions and extravagant dreams, but so did the errand boy and the seamstress, for everyone has dreams; the only difference is the whether or not we have the strength to fulfil them or a destiny that will fulfil them through us.

Some days are like whole philosophies in themselves that suggest to us new interpretations of life, marginal notes full of the acutest criticism in the book of our universal destiny.

we who are as much the vegetables of truth as we are of life, the dust that covers the windowpanes both inside and out, the grandchildren of Destiny and the stepchildren of God, who married Eternal Night when she was left a widow by Chaos, our true father.

The dreamers of ideals [?] – socialists, altruists, and humanitarians of whatever ilk – make me physically sick to my stomach. They're idealists with no ideal, thinkers with no thought. They're enchanted by life's surface because their destiny is to love rubbish, which floats on the water and they think it's beautiful, because scattered shells float on the water too.

They all have, like me, their future in the past.

A swinging pendulum, back and forth, forever moving to arrive nowhere, eternally captive to the twin fatality of a centre and a useless motion.

Bendito sea el elemento irónico de los destinos que concede a los pobres de vida el sueño como pensamiento, así como concedo a los pobres de sueño la vida como pensamiento o el pensamiento como vida.

Outros haverão de ter O que houvermos de perder. Outros poderão achar O que, no nosso encontrar, Foi achado, ou não achado, Segundo o destino dado.

Great suffering can give us the illusion of being Pain's Chosen One.

I feel more kinship and intimacy with certain characters described in books and certain images I've seen in prints than I feel with many so-called real people, who are of that metaphysical insignificance known as flesh and blood. And 'flesh and blood' in fact describes them rather well: they're like chunks of meat displayed in the window of a butcher's, dead things bleeding as if they were alive, shanks and cutlets of Destiny.

In the viscous air of the abstract street there is only an external thread of feeling, like the slobber of an idiot Destiny, dripping on my soul's consciousness.

Que fiz eu da vida? Fiz o que ela fez de mim...

Night will fall on us all and the coach will pull up.

It takes a certain intellectual courage for a man to frankly recognize that he's nothing more than a human tatter, an abortion that survived, a madman not mad enough to be committed; and once he recognizes this, it takes even more moral courage to devise a way of adapting to his destiny, to accept without protest and without resignation, without any gesture or hint of a gesture, the organic curse imposed on him by Nature.