Quotes About Destiny

You're nothing but a work-in-progress until that day you fall out of this world into the land ay dead men's trousers.

Tae be touched by real love requires great fortune, it's no in your hands.

No man is born into the world whose work is not born with him.

From this vantage point he came to a realization that everything that had happened to him before this had been a journey upward through time, everything that occurred after it a descent. If he could not control his fate, why be born?

There is only a God-given number of years in which to work and fulfill yourself. Don't squander them.

Život je putovanje od kolevke do groba; svi idemo istim putem, bilo kra?im ili dužim. Ali potrebno je samo jedno: da usput volimo.

All roads lead to Trantor, and that is where all stars end.

Who?" "Schiller. A German dramatist of three centuries ago. In a play about Joan of Arc, he said, 'Against stupidity, the gods themselves contend in vain.' I'm no god and I'll contend no longer. Let it go, Pete, and go your way. Maybe the world will last our time and, if not, there's nothing that can be done anyway. I'm sorry, Pete. You fought the good fight, but you lost, and I'm through.

But you are telling me, Susan, that the 'Society for Humanity' is right; and that Mankind has lost its own say in its future.' 'It never had any, really. It was always at the mercy of economic and sociological forces it did not understand--at the whims of climate, and the fortunes of war.

They brought the plan through, because they loved the greater Plan.

Mankind has lost its own say in its future.' 'It never had any, really.

Pero ella había muerto. Su matrimonio sólo duró cinco años; y después comprendió que sólo podría vivir contra aquel vago y temible enemigo que le privaba de su dignidad de hombre al controlar su destino, que convertía la vida en una triste lucha contra un fin predestinado, que hacía de todo el universo un juego de ajedrez odioso y mortal.

Noys se acercaba lentamente hacia sus brazos, había llegado el fin de la Eternidad... ...Y el comienzo del Infinito.

The image of Hari Seldon reached into open air and the book once more appeared in his hand. He opened it and said: "But whatever devious course your future history may take, impress it always upon your descendants that the path has been marked out, and that at its end is a new and greater Empire!

You must find that Second Foundation.

Where do the wheels of history lead? How can you be so sure that the wheels of history won't get bogged down in blood and marrow again?

Si el destino de un hombre depende de la desgracia de otro, entonces no existe buena fortuna para nadie.

Can a condemned tribe lead itself to its own burial?

Somewhere I had had a trace of faith in free will, but this morning I felt sure that man possessed as much choice as the clockwork of my wristwatch or the fly that stopped on the edge of my saucer. The same powers were driving Hitler, Stalin, the Pope, the Rabbi of Gur, a molecule in the center of the earth, and a galaxy billions of lightyears distant from the Milky Way. Blind powers? Seeing powers? It did not matter any more. We were fated to play our little games and to be crushed.

La besó en la mejillla lo más cerca posible de la boca, deseando con pasión permanecer a su lado eternamente para preservarla de las sombras. Olía a yerbas y tenía la piel fría. Supo que amarla era su destino inexorable.

Sospecho que todo lo ocurrido no es fortuito, sino que corresponde a un destino dibujado antes de mi nacimiento y Esteban García es parte de ese dibujo. Es un trazo tosco y torcido, pero ninguna pincelada es inútil.

Los budistas dicen que la vida es un río, que navegamos en una balsa hacia el destino final. El río tiene su corriente, velocidad, escollos, remolinos y otros obstáculos que no podemos controlar, pero contamos con un remo para dirigir la embarcación sobre el agua. De nuestra destreza depende la calidad del viaje.

y quien diga que todo fuego se apaga solo tarde o temprano, se equivoca: hay pasiones que son incendios hasta que las ahoga el destino de un zarpazo y aun así quedan brasas calientes listas para arder apenas se les da oxígeno.

Nadie sabe para quién escribe. Cada libro es un mensaje lanzado en una botella al mar con la esperanza de que arribe a otra orilla.