Quotes About Fate

The Moving Finger writes; and, having writ, Moves on: nor all your Piety nor Wit Shall lure it back to cancel half a Line, Nor all your Tears wash out a Word of it.

Everything existing in the universe is the fruit of chance and necessity.

We live in the most probable of all possible worlds.

Chance is the pseudonym God uses when He'd rather not sign His own name.

The life of a wild animal always has a tragic end.

All things happen by virtue of necessity.

There is only one ultimate and effectual preventative for the maladies to which flesh is heir, and that is death.

Astrology is a disease, not a science.

We are star stuff which has taken its destiny into its own hands.

Its the fate of all creators: They fall in love with their creations.

Science cannot avert a single thunderbolt.

Oh God! that one might read the book of fate, And see the revolution of the times Make mountains level, and the continent, Weary of solid firmness, melt itself Into the sea.

You cannot hide from the world. It will find you. It always does. And now it has found me. My split second of immortality is over. All that's left now is the end, which is all any of us ever has.

What we still designate as chance, merely depends on a concatenation of circumstances, the internal connection and final causes of which we have as yet been unable to unravel.

Eventually we will all wither and die in the wasteland of logic and science.

There will come a time of fire and night, when enemies rise and empires fall, when the stars themselves begin to die.

God not only plays dice, he throws them in the corner where you can't see them.

I believe in science but I also believe in fate.

Chance ... must be something more than the name we give to our ignorance.

A very small cause, which escapes us, determines a considerable effect which we cannot ignore, and we say that this effect is due to chance.

The Suitors Ball is fast approaching and it's a nasty reminder that my suitor will be chosen shortly. I feel sorry for the poor unfortunate guy, whichever one of them it happens to be.

I stare at the long, almost elegant thinness of the wrist bone jutting out from a heap of flesh and cloth. All that separates us, that poor woman and me, is an accident of birth.

What's a Laster? A dead man.

I can't help what I have any more than you can help what you don't