Quotes About Fate

The web of our life is of a mingled yarn, good and ill together.

To die, to sleep - To sleep, perchance to dream - ay, there's the rub, For in this sleep of death what dreams may come...

The hind that would be mated by the lionMust die for love.

Yield not thy neckTo fortune's yoke, but let thy dauntless mindStill ride in triumph over all mischance.

Thrift, thrift, Horatio! the funeral bak'd meatsDid coldly furnish forth the marriage tables.Would I had met my dearest foe in heavenEre I had ever seen that day.

I thought thy bride-bed to have deck'd, sweet maid,And not have strew'd thy grave.

Not a whit, we defy augury; there's a special providence in the fall of a sparrow. If it be now, 'tis not to come; if it be not to come, it will be now; if it be not now, yet it will come: the readiness is all.

I am a man whom Fortune hath cruelly scratched.

I find my zenith doth depend upon A most auspicious star, whose influence If now I court not, but omit, my fortunes Will ever after droop.

O God! Horatio, what a wounded name,Things standing thus unknown, shall live behind me.If thou didst ever hold me in thy heart,Absent thee from felicity awhile,And in this harsh world draw thy breath in pain,To tell my story.

Macbeth shall never vanquish'd be untilGreat Birnam wood to high Dunsinane hillShall come against him.

Thou [Death] setter up and plucker down of kings.

The weird sisters, hand in hand,Posters of the sea and land,Thus do go about, about:Thrice to thine, and thrice to mine,And thrice again, to make up nine.Peace! The charm's wound up.

A little touch of Harry in the night.

Doomsday is near; die all, die merrily.

A plague o' both your houses!They have made worms' meat of me.

Thus the whirligig of time brings in his revenges.

He that has and a little tiny wit,With hey, ho, the wind and the rain,Must make content with his fortunes fit,Though the rain it raineth every day.

Fortune brings in some boats that are not steer'd.

Then be thou jocund. Ere the bat hath flownHis cloister'd flight, ere, to black Hecate's summonsThe shard-borne beetle with his drowsy humsHath rung night's yawning peal, there shall be doneA deed of dreadful note.

Well, if Fortune be a woman, she's a good wench for this gear.

My only love sprung from my only hate!Too early seen unknown, and known too late!

Fortune, good night, smile once more; turn thy wheel!

I have set my life upon a cast,And I will stand the hazard of the die.I think there be six Richmonds in the field.