Quotes About Fate

Little Miss Muffet and Mary Contrary, Found in a garden a spider most scary: It stung them and hung them to save them for dinner, A fate that awaits the conventional sinner.

Listen to me, sister," she said. "Remember this: Nothing is written in the stars. Not these stars, nor any others. No one controls your destiny.

Whimsy is fate, too: just less knowable.

One never learns how the witch becomes wicked or if it was the right choice for he — is it ever the right choice?

What's the different between a shooting star and a falling house? One which is propitious grants delicious wishes, the other which is vicious squishes witches.

Getting in control of our possessions makes us feel more in control of our fates. If this is an illusion, it's a helpful illusion--and it's a more pleasant way to live.

Our habits are our destiny.

Our lives are in the space between Isaiah Berlin's "We are doomed to choose and every choice may entail an irreparable loss" and Borges's Garden of Forking Paths, where every choice produces a quantum explosion of alternate future.

Show pity I beg you... We have today been struck down by fortune But tomorrow it may be your own turn to die.

All that is not perfect down to the smallest detail is doomed to perish.

But, in her life, nothing was going to happen. Such was the will of God! The future was a dark corridor, and at the far end the door was bolted.

It was the fault of destiny!

One event sometimes had infinite ramifications and could change the whole settings of a person's life.

It was all her fortune. It seemed to her very fine thus to throw it away.

I was born longing to die.

Fins quan havia de durar aquella existència miseriosa? No se'n sortiria mai? Què tenien de més, que ella no posseís, aquelles que trobaven el consol de la felicitat? [...] Això li feia execrar la injustícia de Déu.

Ils l'avaient manquée tous les deux, celui qui avait rêvé l'amour, celui qui avait rêvé le pouvoir. Quelle en était la raison ?

Het is vreemd met hoe weinig vertrouwen in geluk ik geboren ben. Heel jong al voorvoelde ik precies wat het leven zou worden. Het was als een weerzinwekkende etensgeur, die uit een keldergat ontsnapte. Je hoeft er niet van gegeten te hebben om te weten dat je er kotsmisselijk van wordt. - Gustave Flaubert

Emma grew thinner, her cheeks paler, her face longer. With her black hair, her large eyes, her aquiline nose, her birdlike walk, and always silent now, did she not seem to be passing through life scarcely touching it, and to bear on her brow the vague impress of some divine destiny? She was so sad and so calm, at once so gentle and so reserved, that near her one felt oneself seized by an icy charm, as we shudder in churches at the perfume of the flowers mingling with the cold of the marble.

Aquela putain , Emma Bovary, tem a vida eterna e eu morro como um cão.

Il tomba par terre. Il était mort. Trente-six heures après, sur la demande

How strange life is, how fickle! How little is needed for one to be ruined or saved!

First my husband, then my parents died. After that I lost my two sisters. When death comes to someone's home it's as if it wants to get as much done as quickly as possible to save coming again for a long time.

How small a thing is needed to make or ruin us!