Quotes About Fate

I don't intend to rush at the grave, believe me." "Few do. The grave swallows us all regardless.

it is the fate of hope to end in disappointment, as it is the fate of light to end in darkness and life in death. They are still worth something while they last.

From the moment it is born, from the moment it is built, everything is always dying, decaying, drifting into chaos.

Supongo que el amor cae donde cae. La madre Owd levantó una ceja. —Por lo general se ve caer de lejos y da tiempo a apartarse. —Pues

If anyone had asked him, Clover would've said there was less than no chance this'd be settled with talk. But you never realise how much hope you're holding till it gets knifed and thrown off a roof.

Few indeed are those who get a choice. We do as we are told. We stand or fall beside those who were born near to us, who look as we do, who speak the same words, and all the while we know as little of the reasons why as does the dust we return to.' Her

Do you want this bauble?' He drew is knife now and held it out to Yarvi by the bright blade. "Then take it. But know that Mother War breathed upon me in my crib, it has been foreseen that no man kill me.

I wish I'd met you sooner,' he said. 'Things might be different.' 'You didn't and they're not. So let's take what we can get , eh?

He never had any choices.

But there's no beating the Great Leveller. No man comes back from the mud.

We are all dead men, brother, in due course. It is how we get there that counts.

The Great Leveller," Dogman whispered to himself, since he was in a thoughtful frame of mind. That's what the hillmen call him. Death, that is. He levels all differences. Named Men and nobodies, south or north. He catches everyone in the end, and he treats each man the same.

My wound existed before me, I was born to embody it.

Sooner or later a black car came for everyone.

It was something... the way a person's life picked up speed, the way a life was like a bullet aimed at one final target, impossible to slow or turn aside, and like the bullet, you were ignorant of what you were going to hit, would never know anything except the rush and the impact.

Death is a raw deal for narrative junkies.

There's something horribly unfair about dying in the middle of a good story, before you have a chance to see how it all comes out.

The child outliving the parents is the only happy story us human beings get.

Then Glenn Beck burned to death on his Internet program, right in front of his chalkboard, burned so hot his glasses fused to his face

After six hours in the car, he felt no panic, only a kind of numb wonder. On some level he had come to view his situation as almost natural. Sooner or later a black car came for everyone. It came and took you away from your loved ones, and you never got to go back.

I told you had to be some kind of karmic opposite to the words I love you.

It was as if the day's whole motion had merely described a great circle that was always, inevitably, going to lead him back to where he had started.

You don't want to start A Game of Thrones when you might catch fire all of a sudden. There's something horribly unfair about dying in the middle of a good story, before you have a chance to see how it all comes out. Of course, I suppose everyone always dies in the middle of a good story, in a sense. Your own story. Or the story of your children. Or your grandchildren.

Existe algo de terrivelmente injusto no fato de morrer no meio de uma boa história, antes de ter oportunidade de ver como tudo acaba. Em certo sentido, claro, eu acho que todo mundo sempre morre no meio de uma boa história. Da sua própria história. Ou da história dos seus filhos. Ou dos netos. A morte é sempre dureza para os viciados em narrativas.