Quotes About Fate

Njeriu duhet ta krijojë vetë castin e vdekjes, nëse duam që t'ia kursejmë vetes një fund të tmerrshëm.

We dared to think . . . this John Kennedy would live to comb gray hair, with his beloved Carolyn by his side. But like his father," Ted said, his voice catching, "he had every gift but length of years.

They say what's for you won't go past you...

It's the fate of many propositions," Terry said, "to begin as heresies and end as truths. I read that somewhere, anyway.

How do you know that out there, in the day or night According to latitude, the entire world Isn't wanting to be hanged? Now you, for instance, Still damp from your cocoon, you're desperate To fly into any noose of the sun that should dangle Down from the sky. Life, forbye, is the way We fatten for the Michaelmas of our own particular Gallows.

Only tragedies arrived with such urgency in the small hours before dawn.

I don't believe in life after death. But I do believe in some grinding destiny that watches over us on earth. If I didn't, the safety valve would give and the boiler would explode.

At daybreak on the first day, thousands of Cambodians are already calmly waiting outside my polling station. They squat on the ground, silent and patient. We didn't expect this at all. We thought they would fail to understand how democracy works. We thought they would be afraid of the Khmer Rouge. We thought they would passively accept their fate. We were wrong.

Wenn nun aber die Natur einmal korrupt ist, was soll man tun?" "Erstens es wissen, als ein Verhängnis und ohne etwas Positives daraus machen zu wollen. Zweitens ihr trotzdem folgen. Ergreifen, wovon man ergriffen ist.

Sleep is lovely, death is better still, not to have been born is of course the miracle.

Lo, sleep is good, better is death--in sooth The best of all were never to be born.

All of us, who are members of the Germanic peoples, can be happy and thankful that once in thousands of years fate has given us, from among the Germanic peoples, such a genius, a leader, our Fuehrer Adolf Hitler, and you should be happy to be allowed to work with us.

If we could know as intimately as we know our more immediate parents the long line of ancestors through whom the family spirit has passed on its way to us, we should probably become fatalists in face of the apparently overwhelming evidence that there is nothing in us that has not come to us from, or at least through, the Family. Family portrait galleries are a striking confirmation of the persistence of characteristics which ultimately govern the fortunes of successive generations.

There are people who think death a fate worse than boredom.

Poor wretched beasts (said he) Why gave we you t'a mortall king? De dumty dumty dum De dumty dumty dumty dum de dumty dumty dum? De dumty dumty dumty dum de dumty dumty dum? Of all the miserable'st things that breathe and creepe on earth, No one more wretched is then man. And for your deathless birth, Hector must faile to make you prise

It seemed to me that there was a self-interest hidden in the core of all of us, which cooled us when we contemplated any fate which did not touch us directly.

Because it turns out, "If it happens, it happens" is Southern Lady Code for we don't want kids.

From now until the end of the trial, every time [the jury] entered the court, Farquharson would spring to his feet in the dock and remain standing until they were seated—a protocol that seemed to say my fate is in your hands .

Actors work and slave and it is the color of your hair that can determine your fate in the end.

Confidence is the master of fate.

That little space of irresolution is a strange place to be. You feel safe because you are entirely at the world's mercy. It is a rush. You lose yourself in it. And so you run towards those little shots of fate, where the world turns. That is the lure: that is why we lose ourselves, when powerless from hurt and grief, in drugs or gambling or drink; in addictions that collar the broken soul and shake it like a dog.

White, caught up in this conservative, antiquarian mood, walked with his hawk and wrote of ghosts, of starry Orion naked and resplendent in the English sky, of all the imaginary lines men and time had drawn upon the landscape. By the fire, his hawk by his side, he brooded on the fate of nations.

She told him that she had looked after him because of the white hairs on his forehead that grew into the shape of a star. Sometimes you see that someone is marked and you're helpless after that - you love.

There were days when he touched the tip of her nose and it was enough, a miracle of plenty. But who finds happiness interesting? One day the woman stamped her foot and wished her man dead. So he died. (And now you know what a Yoruba woman can be like sometimes.)