Happiness, you see, its just an illusion of Fate, a heavenly sleight of hand designed to make you believe in fairy tales. But there's no happily ever after. You'll only find happy endings in books. Some books.
So what is love then is it dictated or chosen (handed down and made by hand)Does it sing like the hymns of a thousand yearsOr is it just pop emotion (handed down and made by hand)And if it ever was there and it leftDoes it mean it was never trueAnd to exist it must eludeIs that why I think these things of you?
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So what is love then is it dictated or chosen (handed down and made by hand)Does it sing like the hymns of a thousand yearsOr is it just pop emotion (handed down and made by hand)And if it ever was there and it leftDoes it mean it was never trueAnd to exist it must eludeIs that why I think these things of you?
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If there's to be damnation, she had said, let it be of my choosing, not theirs. He knew a little about damnation himself_ and he had an idea that the lessons, far from being done, were just beginning.
I understood that fate could not be eluded forever; it came on leathery wings, swooping through the darkness like the bats in the orchards.
LIfe is just a game of chance, a dance with fate if you let it be so. Or you could chose to play by your rules to win.
The trigger has been squeezed, the deathly mechanism has been enabled, the fatal course of a bullet has been set. No amount of bleating or praying or wailing of cajoling can halt it or stall it or call it back.
Luck Doesn't Exist in one's world, its the unexplainable and the unexpected that makes some question fate