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Quotes about Fate

The good book says that he that lives by the sword shall perish by the sword, said
— Cormac McCarthy
Men spared their lives in great disasters often feel in their deliverance the workings of fate. The hand of Providence.
— Cormac McCarthy
Chigurh shot him in the face. Everything that Wells had ever known or thought or loved drained slowly down the wall behind him
— Cormac McCarthy
He was shot in a fracas of some kind. Long fore he married. Come near dyin. So I always wondered about that, had he died none of us would never have been at all and I never could … Well, that's a funny thing to think. Maybe we would have just been somebody else.
— Cormac McCarthy
If people knew the story of their lives how many would then elect to live them? People
— Cormac McCarthy
A man seeks his own destiny and no other, said the judge. Will or nill. Any man who could discover his own fate and elect therefore some opposite course could only come at last to that selfsame reckoning at the same appointed time, for each man's destiny is as large as the world he inhabits and contains within it all opposites as well.
— Cormac McCarthy
Destiny is not a matter of chance. It is a matter of choice.
— Dale Carnegie
All goes onward and outward, nothing collapses, And to die is different from what any one supposed, and luckier.
— Walt Whitman
And to die is different from what anyone supposed, and luckier. If no other in the world be aware I sit content, and if each and all be aware I sit content.
— Walt Whitman
Things don't always go the way we want. I've come to realize that some things just aren't meant to be.
— Wanda Brunstetter
If love could force my own thoughts over the edge of the world and out of time, then could I not see how even divine omnipotence might by the force of its own love be swayed down to the world? ...how it might, because it could know its own creatures only by compassion, put on mortal flesh, become a man, and walk among us, assume our nature and our fate, suffer our faults and our death?
— Wendell Berry
I was blaspheming my luck in a way that made my breath smell of brimstone.
— Mark Twain