Best 3514 quotes in «fate quotes» category

Why did fate decide to over-season her soul’s stockpot with a dash of tear-spilling salt, then give her life a stir to watch the pyramid of pain crumble?

Why can’t I remember that not once have I ever seen a coin, whether grimy copper or bright gold, that had but one side.

Why did you make me?' I asked her, before she could speak. I felt like a convict standing on a gallows with a noose around my neck, asking about the nature of God. 'Why like this? Can I really end my story? Were you ever going to let me go?' 'Let you go?' Her voice was honey on razor blades. 'Go to /what/? This is your purpose-- the start of your story. This is what you were made to do.' 'So you lied. I can't really change anything.' She smiled at me, a tender smile that sent fear jackrabbiting through my blood. 'You wouldn't want to... can't you see that yet? The Stories are perfect. The Stories are /worlds/. I made a whole world just for you, and in it you get to do what no one else gets to: you get to live, and live, and live. And everything will come out the way it's meant to be, no matter what. I made it that way.' 'But how is that living?' I whispered.

Why do things happen the way they do? Is there some kind of order in all this chaos that we just don't see, or is it all, as the mathematically minded people would like us to believe, just random coincidence? If you put one hundred apes in a room, they'll tell you, with one hundred typewriters, and given an infinite amount of time and bananas, one of them would eventually churn out the complete Oxford dictionary. It's all statistical math and probability. The odds of winning the lottery are greater than the odds of getting struck by lightning, but someone wins, don't they? And people get hit by lightning disturbingly more often that you would think. Their point is, eventually all things happen. No matter how philosophically unprejudiced you are, you can't argue with statistical probabilities. But you can certainly give the mathematicians some substantial cud to chew on, can't you? For instance, sure, everything may be eventual from a statistical point of view, but what happens to the formula if you plug in when a particular thing happens? The fortuitousness of the timing? Or combine a particular coincidence with other seemingly non-related coincidences that might have occurred within the same general time frame? We've all had it happen. It's one of our favorite phrases: "Why me? Why now?" Well, when you take the "when" into account, all kinds of very interesting and un-mathematical things begins to happen. The coincidence becomes too coincidental to be a coincidence.

Why escape your intended purpose by copying and trying to be someone else? You will discover who you were meant to be only after you have shown confidence being yourself.

Why, man, he doth bestride the narrow world Like a Colossus, and we petty men Walk under his huge legs and peep about To find ourselves dishonorable graves. Men at some time are masters of their fates. The fault, dear Brutus, is not in our stars But in ourselves, that we are underlings.

Why have all the pieces joined together to create such a cruel fate?

Why settle for a lesser vision? When you are destiny for greatness!

Why?" She asked in a confused whisper. "Out of all the women in the world, why did you choose this mortal?" "Because fate drove me to you.

Will, is the precursor of possibility, and the foresight of potential.

Will you not see?” she cried. “You are not as other men are. Why need you bow to a Fate? Can you not change it?

Wisdom is bestowed by the Creator.

With faith, you can find your fate.

With great passion, observe every details of the sacred journey.

Without adversity and trials we may never know what we are capable of.

Without knowing why or how, I found myself in love with this strange Wanderess. Maybe I was just in love with the dream she was selling me: a life of destiny and fate; as my own life up until we met had been so void of enchantment. Those things: mystery, fate, enchantment... they are things that young people offer us as soon as we get close to them. And if we're not careful, we can be seduced by, and drawn back into, the youthful world they preside over.

Without road maps fate just takes over to create random events.

Without sufficient control, fate is pushing your switches on a continual basis.

With riddles as black as coals, and answers as invisible as our past, I can only depend upon the crest of the rolling wave I now traversed; a romance worshiped only by the dreamer in us all, a psithurism of trust making its way through the years of our ascension to one day climb above the kaleidoscopic canopy of this mortal coil.

With us, there were always too many false starts. I believe that what's meant to be usually has a way of working out... and with us, it never did. Call it timing, call it fate, call it what you want. It is what it is. Sometimes in the end, the girl doesn't always get the boy--and that's ok. Life goes on. You know better than anyone that some love stories never get their happy ending... but it doesn't make them any less of a love story though, does it? It doesn't make the love the two shared any less relevant.

With you it's different, There isn't a catostrophic emotion of endorphines, but there is a silent feeling of contentment & peace. I won't deny I have my fears, but your worth the discovery.

Words came to her from outside of memory; they fluttered against her heart like a rush of wings and soared from her voice in a song she'd never known. A song she'd always known. She hummed the incantation, and the force of magic behind it erupted in a crescendo through her blood. Every cell in her body vibrated with pure joy. I have lived this before. This is my destiny. I am Zyne.

Words of the hero: "I am my fate.

Worrying about outcomes over which I have no control is punishing myself before the universe has decided whether I ought to be punished.

World believers of righteousness must fight the enemies of Allah through uncompromising...

Would it be possible to speak to this Universe person?" "I'm sure that they will understand that there is a personality conflict." It was time to bump my complaint to upper management. "No one speaks to the Universe." "Then how do you know what to do?" I leaned in a little. "Simple. Through my orders." His eyes started to twitch. "Which you get how?" "My memos.

Yes! all is past—swift time has fled away, Yet its swell pauses on my sickening mind; How long will horror nerve this frame of clay? I'm dead, and lingers yet my soul behind. Oh! powerful Fate, revoke thy deadly spell, And yet that may not ever, ever be, Heaven will not smile upon the work of Hell; Ah! no, for Heaven cannot smile on me; Fate, envious Fate, has sealed my wayward destiny.

Yeah, I’m listenin’,” Morganith answered, “and Arda once told me pregnant Alteri women can see what might come to pass, not what will come to pass. What they see is just what people chose to do of their own shitty free will, not what they were forced to do by some gods.

Would the truth be silenced, or would it try to break through Meaning if someone loves you and its meant to be but for unknown reasons it seems to be over would you somehow get fatalistic messages that would hint at you the truth behind the relationship- are forces at play to try and waken you up to the idea that you're actually meant to be and should be together?

Xerxes, I read, ‘halted his unwieldy army for days that he might contemplate to his satisfaction’ the beauty of a single sycamore. You are Xerxes in Persia. Your army spreads on a vast and arid peneplain…you call to you all your sad captains, and give the order to halt. You have seen the tree with the lights in it, haven’t you? You must have. Xerxes buffeted on a plain, ambition drained in a puff. Your men are bewildered…there is nothing to catch the eye in this flatness, nothing but a hollow, hammering sky, a waste of sedge in the lee of windblown rocks, a meager ribbon of scrub willow tracing a slumbering watercourse…and that sycamore. You saw it; you will stand rapt and mute, exalted, remembering or not remembering over a period of days to shade your head with your robe. “He had its form wrought upon a medal of gold to help him remember it the rest of his life.” We all ought to have a goldsmith following us around. But it goes without saying, doesn’t it, Xerxes, that no gold medal worn around your neck will bring back the glad hour, keep those lights kindled so long as you live, forever present? Pascal saw it; he grabbed pen and paper and scrawled the one word, and wore it sewn in his shirt the rest of his life. I don’t know what Pascal saw. I saw a cedar. Xerxes saw a sycamore.

Yet her experience had consisted less in a series of pure disappointments than in a series of substitutions. Continually it had happened that what she had desired had not been granted her, and that what had been granted her she had not desired. So she viewed with an approach to equanimity the now cancelled days when Donald had been her undeclared lover, and wondered what unwished-for thing Heaven might send her in place of him.

You are a Chosen Man. You are Parmenion, the Death of Nations. A hundred thousand souls will you send to the dark river, screaming and wailing, lamenting their fate. It is right and just that you should know your choices.

You are always moving toward your fate, in life.

—Yo solo quería tener a alguien que me quisiera en verdad. Como lo que tienes con Robert. —Yo no tengo nada con él—me defendí de inmediato. —Lo quieres—suspiró—Y él te quiere a ti, se nota. Él es el único hombre que sé que te quiere a pesar de cómo eres.

You are capable of great deeds.

You are a new creation by the blood of Jesus.

You are backed by great power. Press onwards, you will succeed.

You are being called to be an agent of the divine. Will you accept your mission?

You are divine being.

You are God. You want to make a forest, something to hold the soil, lock up energy, and give off oxygen. Wouldn’t it be simpler just to rough in a slab of chemicals, a green acre of goo? You are a man, a retired railroad worker who makes replicas as a hobby. You decide to make a replica of one tree, the longleaf pine your great-grandfather planted- just a replica- it doesn’t have to work. How are you going to do it? How long do you think you might live, how good is your glue? For one thing, you are going to have to dig a hole and stick your replica trunk halfway to China if you want the thing to stand up. Because you will have to work fairly big; if your replica is too small, you’ll be unable to handle the slender, three-sided needles, affix them in clusters of three in fascicles, and attach those laden fascicles to flexible twigs. The twigs themselves must be covered by “many silvery-white, fringed, long-spreading scales.” Are your pine cones’ scales “thin, flat, rounded at the apex?” When you loose the lashed copper wire trussing the limbs to the trunk, the whole tree collapses like an umbrella. You are a sculptor. You climb a great ladder; you pour grease all over a growing longleaf pine. Next, you build a hollow cylinder around the entire pine…and pour wet plaster over and inside the pine. Now open the walls, split the plaster, saw down the tree, remove it, discard, and your intricate sculpture is ready: this is the shape of part of the air. You are a chloroplast moving in water heaved one hundred feet above ground. Hydrogen, carbon, oxygen, nitrogen in a ring around magnesium…you are evolution; you have only begun to make trees. You are god- are you tired? Finished?

You are here because Fate invited you. You cannot go back the way you came. I suggest you go forward instead.

You are here to remind me of someone I long for, and what is it you long for yourself? We must have been together in an earlier life, you and I.

You are the author of your own destiny.

You are saved by grace.

You are the only author of the story of your life. 'Fate' is just an excuse for all of your wrong decisions.

You are worthy of a great life. Desire, dream and seek it.

You beg fate to make your fears into reality, Aleran. But for the moment, they are only fears. They may come. If so, then face them and overcome them. Until then, pay them no mind. You have enough to think on.

You can be anything you want. Fate deals us our hand, but we decide how to play it. We all of us choose the people we want to be.

You are familiar with World War 2?" "Of course I am. I'm dead, not stupid.

You are destiny for greatness! Realise and pursue this greatness.