Fate Quotes
-
For Fate has wove the thread of life with pain,
And twins ev'n from the birth are Misery and Man!
Homer
-
Deep in the man sits fast his fate To mould his fortunes, mean or great.
Ralph Waldo Emerson
-
The fate of the soil system depends on society's willingness to intervene in the market place, and to forego some of the short-term benefits that accrue from 'mining' the soil so that soil quality and fertility can be maintained over the longer term.
Eugene Odum
-
Fate is like a small sandstorm that keeps changing directions. You change direction but the sandstorm chases you. You turn again, but the storm adjusts. Over and over you play this out, like some ominous dance with death just before dawn. Why? Because this storm isn't something that blew in from far away, something that has nothing to do with you. This storm is you. Something inside of you. So all you can do is give in to it, step right inside the storm, closing your eyes and plugging up your ears so the sand doesn't get in, and walk through it, step by step.
Haruki Murakami
-
It is the strange fate of man, that even in the greatest of evils the fear of the worst continues to haunt him.
Johann Wolfgang von Goethe
-
All things are subject to decay and when fate summons, monarchs must obey.
John Dryden
-
That day she put our heads together, Fate had her imagination about her, Your head so much concerned with outer, Mine with inner, weather.
Robert Frost
-
When fate is got it in for you, there is no limit to what you may have to put up with.
Georgette Heyer
-
Wherever you are sent, whatever your fate, I will go with you! I shall never leave your side. All that I have done was done for love of you, and I will never abandon you, not even if dark eternity awaits.
Allan Frewin Jones
-
So-called real life has only once interfered with me, and it had been a far cry from what the words, lines, books had prepared me for. Fate had to do with blind seers, oracles, choruses announcing death, not with panting next to the refrigerator, fumbling with condoms, waiting in a Honda parked round the corner and surreptitious encounters in a Lisbon hotel. Only the written word exists, everything one must do oneself is without form, subject to contingency without rhyme or reason. It takes too long. And if it ends badly the metre isn't right, and there's no way to cross things out.
Cees Nooteboom
