Best 3514 quotes in «fate quotes» category

I give unto you power to tread on evil and over all the power of the devil, and nothing shall by any means hurt you.

I guess it's funny how life turns out?" she tried. "Not last I checked," Errol said with a snort.

I guess it was what my friend Phoolendu at the yoga studio would call kismet. That's like fate, but much more dramatic.

I guess there's always a price to pay when you cheat fate.

I had a strange feeling that Fate had in store for me exquisite joys and exquisite sorrows.

I had decided that it is the fate of my generation never to have known the noble law of the sea, and to live, instead, in an era when the captain leaves his ship not last, but first. Call it the new spirit of capitalism, ushered in with all the other forms of ruthlessness that mark contemporary times [Kushner, Rachel, Diary, London Review of Books, January 14, 2015].

I had never heard her sound so calm, so resigned to her fate. She said she was neither happy nor unhappy, and that was why she couldn't go on.

I had started to desire power, because what I now realised was that other people had had it all along, that what I called fate was merely the reverberation of their will, a tale scripted not by some universal storyteller but by people who would elude justice for as long as their actions were met with resignation rather than outrage.

I have always felt like a pawn... My skin color's been a curse, my missionary parents made me sober and intense, my school days brought me up against political crimes against Animals, my love life imploded and my lover died, and if I had any life's work of my own, I haven't found it yet, except in animal husbandry, if you could call it that.

I have a proposition for you,” she said, trying for a businesslike tone. “A very sensible one. You see—” She paused to clear her throat. “I’ve been thinking about your problem.” “What problem?” Cam played lightly with the folds of her skirts, watching her face alertly. “Your good-luck curse. I know how to get rid of it. You should marry into a family with very, very bad luck. A family with expensive problems. And then you won’t have to be embarrassed about having so much money, because it will flow out nearly as fast as it comes in.” “Very sensible.” Cam took her shaking hand in his, pressed it between his warm palms. And touched his foot to her rapidly tapping one. “Hummingbird,” he whispered, “you don’t have to be nervous with me.” Gathering her courage, Amelia blurted out, “I want your ring. I want never to take it off again. I want to be your romni forever”— she paused with a quick, abashed smile—“ whatever that is.” “My bride. My wife.” Amelia froze in a moment of throat-clenching delight as she felt him slide the gold ring onto her finger, easing it to the base. “When we were with Leo, tonight,” she said scratchily, “I knew exactly how he felt about losing Laura. He told me once that I couldn’t understand unless I had loved someone that way. He was right. And tonight, as I watched you with him … I knew what I would think at the very last moment of my life.” His thumb smoothed over the tender surface of her knuckle. “Yes, love?” “I would think,” she continued, “‘ Oh, if I could have just one more day with Cam. I would fit a lifetime into those few hours.’” “Not necessary,” he assured her gently. “Statistically speaking, we’ll have at least ten, fifteen thousand days to spend together.” “I don’t want to be apart from you for even one of them.” Cam cupped her small, serious face in his hands, his thumbs skimming the trace of tears beneath her eyes. His gaze caressed her. “Are we to live in sin, love, or will you finally agree to marry me?” “Yes. Yes. I’ll marry you. Although … I still can’t promise to obey you.” Cam laughed quietly. “We’ll manage around that. If you’ll at least promise to love me.” Amelia gripped his wrists, his pulse steady and strong beneath her fingertips. “Oh, I do love you, you’re—” “I love you, too.” “— my fate. You’re everything I—” She would have said more, if he had not pulled her head to his, kissing her with hard, thrilling pressure.

I have a soft spot for my kind-- and look where it got me. Rules exist for a reason. But. /But/... You can't finish your story, but you can change it. /Technically/ speaking, you can. You can choose another ending, and destabilize it from the inside. If you fail to close the loop, the story might let you go. In theory.

I have become a trailblazer for my destiny; the entrepreneur of my fate.

I have been capable of some mischief in the past. I know what rebellion feels like. Everyone and everything is provided with a destiny, but there is no obligation whatsoever to fulfill it. Some just prefer to ignore the humming of their soul.

I have converted the machinery of my fate into the servant of my will.

I have drunk the night and swallowed the stars. I am dancing with abandon and singing with rapture. There is not a thing I do not love. There is not a person I have not forgiven. I feel a universe of love. I feel a universe of light. Tonight, I am with old friends and we are returning home. The moon is our witness.

I have brought you a hero’s fate, and a hero’s fate is never happy. It is never anything but tragic.

I have chosen a life that depends on one’s awareness that every breath may be his last, every step may bring his downfall, and every word may stir betrayal. In truth, I must live in conscious ignorance of the mere thread that holds my life aloft, trusting that God alone has the power to sever it, and that He will do so only when my work on earth is complete.

I have known many who led their fighters to titles, and some who took them right to the end of the rainbow. I have found, however, that destiny controls the passes to these places, and I keep telling myself, trying to believe it, that it is not important, really, how far you go but how you make the trip.

I have often noticed that we are inclined to endow our friends with the stability of type that literary characters acquire in the reader's mind. No matter how many times we reopen 'King Lear,' never shall we find the good king banging his tankard in high revelry, all woes forgotten, at a jolly reunion with all three daughters and their lapdogs. Never will Emma rally, revived by the sympathetic salts in Flaubert's father's timely tear. Whatever evolution this or that popular character has gone through between the book covers, his fate is fixed in our minds, and, similarly, we expect our friends to follow this or that logical and conventional pattern we have fixed for them.

I have often noticed that these things, which obsess me, neither bother nor impress other people even slightly. I am horribly apt to approach some innocent at a gathering, and like the ancient mariner, fix him with a wild, glitt’ring eye and say, “Do you know that in the head of the caterpillar of the ordinary goat moth there are two hundred twenty-eight separate muscles?” The poor wretch flees. I am not making chatter; I mean to change his life.

I have reconciled myself to our new lives. Our new fate, as Talis would say. As if fate were a merging, shifting thing. As if it were controlled by something other than ourselves.

I kept waiting for the part where I’d finally know who I was — some flashing, neon moment of relief, but it never came.

I just want your voice aimed at me again. I want to absorb the direction of your eyes…

I knew enough by now to know that my fate didn't belong to me, if it ever had.

I knew that I was talented. I was positive about that. I wasn’t sure exactly what I was talented at, but I was ambitious enough to wait it out and see what turned up.

I know every day is a battle for thousands of people out there. For too many, just walking down the stairs, taking a bath, getting public transport or being alone among strangers takes real courage. And the only thing that makes you want to cry about how hard this can be is all the other people out there who do all that without even having to think about it. To them all that stuff is trivial, the reflex of life – the nothing on which you layer your everything. The upsetting bit is not that others take it for granted. They should. I would. You never wish that other people should suffer to make you feel better. This is not about wanting other people to struggle or feel worse. You don’t need someone else to be suffering more… (And if you do then you need to go and sit in a corner and have a bloody word with yourself.) Everyone should take walking down the stairs or having a bath for granted. My kids do, and I couldn’t be gladder for them. The thing that gnaws away at you is the fact that you can’t, and that these ordinary things take up so much head space. So much of what you might usefully apply to exciting stuff, or profitable stuff, or happy stuff is used up with nonsense. You go to bed hoping the night won’t be too dreadful, that you won’t have a major fit, that you will wake up with your arms in their sockets and with a tongue that hasn’t been bitten into such a bloody pulp that you sound like a deaf person when you speak.

I know, at the time it was an imperfect solution in an imperfect world.

I know that I'm doomed and I'm not going to struggle against my fate. I am only writing this down so that when you do not see me any more you will know that my enemy has finally triumphed.

I knew it like destiny, and at the same time, I knew it as choice.

I know the moment you died, Jesus' face was smiling on you, Welcoming you into His glorious city of gold. I know you are enjoying the incredible light and peace of His presence right now

I know that this process of ‘me changing my life’ doesn’t just end once I set fire to this list of things I hate about myself. Tonight isn’t as much of a new beginning as it is a violent end and I know the real work hasn’t even started yet.

I know that your soul is on life support and that you feel lost and like you’re completely spinning out of control, but you’re finding yourself — here, tonight… even in this darkness.

I mean, sometimes I wonder why God would grant a favor if trouble's just waiting around the corner? It feels disingenuous. If it's fate, then it's written in the stars, and we can't do much to avoid it.

I'll always choose you. Gabe Willoughby

I loved you without knowing it, and I looked for your memory. In empty houses I entered with a lantern to steal your portrait

I love him in ways that I can’t explain to other people. They don’t understand… it’s not their fault.

...I'm choosing my own story. Because if you can't do that, you might as well give up.

I'm dead?" "That body is... yes.

I may not be free, but I’m not about to surrender the illusion of choice.

I miss him for all the things he forgot to see in himself & if im lucky fate will help us rekindle a flame that never got set alight in the first place.

I'm not letting the world - or anyone in it - determine my fate. Not anymore, at least. - Ginny

I'll see you soon. I promise.” And there is, that moment, a shock of recognition. Elijah doesn't even know yet what he is recognizing. There is only the shock. The sense. That feeling of something happening that was meant to happen. Two people fitting in a space and time. For a moment.

I loved the sea as much as he does.. Today I know it is more than fate, more than destiny.. You and Me are one Sea. !

I make no apologies for you. After all, each one of us is little more than the meager residue of the infinite unrealized possibilities of our lives.

I'm a sailor, Lettie, I go where the wind takes me. And it led me to you, didn't it? I was born ten thousand miles away, but the wind brought me to Barter, and now we're friends. We're on this boat for a reason.

I met you and i knew, chaos would meet in the calm and we'd connect there too.

I’m free, I think. I shut my eyes and think hard and deep about how free I am, but I can’t really understand what it means. All I know is I’m totally alone. All alone in an unfamiliar place, like some solitary explorer who’s lost his compass and his map. Is this what it means to be free?

I’m going to follow this invisible red thread until I find myself again… until I finally figure out… who I’m meant to be.

I'm not formed by things that are of myself alone. I wear my father's belt tied around my mother's blouse, and shoes which are from my uncle. This is me. Just as a flower does not choose its color, we are not responsible for what we have come to be. Only once you realize this do you become free, and to become adult is to become free.

I’m not looking for fate. I’m seventeen. I’m looking for kissing, and to move forward a few paces on the game board. You know, do some Living. (With my lips.)