fate

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

Sometimes fate or life or whatever you want to call it, leaves a door a little open and you walk through it. But sometimes it locks the door and you have to find the key, or pick the lock, or knock the damn thing down. And sometimes, it doesn't even show you the door, and you have to build it yourself. But if you keep waiting for the doors to be opened for you..." she trails off.

I need to tell you a story, a tale of fate and emergence.

Fate was a train that didn't stop until it reached its final destination.

And I would tell him, as we rise into the air, The curse is not that we cannot choose our Fates.The curse, the curse we all live under, is that we can.

Fate goes ever as fate must.

Now of course in hindsight, such a wonderful thing, though never around when you actually need it, I know that I always loved her deeply.

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.

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

A tractor beam from the Imperial ship locked onto the shuttle and in seconds it became apparent they were being hauled in. The tractor was inescapable, and they knew it. The shuttle__ small yet potent engines struggled vainly against the irresistible pull. Inside, the Hammer and his men prepared to meet their fate.

It is the lumps and trialsThat tell us whether we shall be knownAnd whether our fate can be exemplary, like a star.

The truth is often of no consequence.

Isn't that the way everything begins? A night, a love, a once and for all.

Truth is the irony of fate.

The frenzies of the chase had by this time worked them bubblingly up, like old wine worked anew. Whatever pale fears and forebodings some of them might have felt before; these were not only now kept out of sight through the growing awe of Ahab, but they were broken up, and on all sides routed, as timid prairie hares that scatter before the bounding bison. The hand of Fate had snatched all their souls; and by the stirring perils of the previous day; the rack of the past night's suspense; the fixed, unfearing, blind, reckless way in which their wild craft went plunging towards its flying mark; by all these things, their hearts were bowled along. The wind that made great bellies of their sails, and rushed the vessel on by arms invisible as irresistible; this seemed the symbol of that unseen agency which so enslaved them to the race.They were one man, not thirty. For as the one ship that held them all; though it was put together of all contrasting things _ oak, and maple, and pine wood; iron, and pitch, and hemp _ yet all these ran into each other in the one concrete hull, which shot on its way, both balanced and directed by the long central keel; even so, all the individualities of the crew, this man's valor, that man's fear; guilt and guiltiness, all varieties were welded into oneness, and were all directed to that fatal goal which Ahab their one lord and keel did point to.The rigging lived. The mast-heads, like the tops of tall palms, were outspreadingly tufted with arms and legs. Clinging to a spar with one hand, some reached forth the other with impatient wavings; others, shading their eyes from the vivid sunlight, sat far out on the rocking yards; all the spars in full bearing of mortals, ready and ripe for their fate. Ah! how they still strove through that infinite blueness to seek out the thing that might destroy them!

It is always a great honor to be the driver of your own car, to be the boss of your own fate!

Fate always found its mark, one way or another.

And all this while the subtle-souled girl asking herself why she was born, why sitting in a room, and blinking at the candle; why things around her had taken the shape they wore in preference to every other possible shape.