fates

The Fates and Furies, as well as the Graces and Sirens, glide with linked hands over life.

God doesn__ put that much prep into something that is insignificant.

Pandora's Box could not be unopened, no one could return to Eden.

Since the beginning, the Fates determined which souls would be born, what kinds of lives they would live, and for how many days. They did this out of duty, out of destiny, and without emotion.

We cannot prepare our fate, but we can stir it up.

Perhaps she was happiest when she was out of control. She looked at the fates and said three little words, not one regret.

Your ideas create your fate; you change your ideas, you change your fate!

All the doors you ignored or refused to enter represents your uncreated fates!

Smile at the Fates and you will feel less their Slave.

If there was a God. I would spit in his face for subjecting me to this. If there was a Devil, I would sell my sould to make it end. If there was something Higher that controlled out f***ing fates, I would tell it to take my fate and shove it up its fucking ass. Shove it hard and far, you motherf***er. Please end. Please end. Please end.

A lion may die of an ass's kick.

The only power which can illuminate you is your own mind! No other mind can lighten you if your mind insists to remain in the darkness! The fate of your fate is within you!

What she did not tell him balanced neatly with what she did.

They send a person who can never stay," she whispered. "Who can never accept my offer of companionship for more than a little while. They send me a hero I can't help ... just the sort of person I can't help falling in love with."...As I sailed into the lake I realized the Fates really were cruel. They sent Calypso someone she couldn't help but love. But it worked both ways. For the rest of my life I would be thinking about her. She would always be my biggest what if.

And they spoke of their Antigonie, who they called Go, as if she were a friend.Leo hadn't yet written any music, but he had made drawings on butcher paper stolen from the kitchen. They curled around his walls, intricate doodles, extensions of the boy's own lean, slight body. The shape of Leo's jaw in profile, devestating. The way he gnawed his fingernails to the crescents, the fine shining hairs down the center of his nape, the smell of him, up close, pure and clean, bleaching. The ones made for music are the most beloved of all. Their bodies a container for the spirit within; the best of them is music, the rest only instrument of flesh and bone.The weather conspired. Snow fell softly in the windows. It was too cold to be out for long. The world colorless, a dreamscape, a blank page, the linger of woodsmoke on the back of the tongue.

May be the road you travel doesn__ give you the beautiful fate you have always dreamed off! Stop and change the road, no matter how difficult it may be!

Trams are not free; their paths are predetermined; they must travel on the pre-designed paths! You are not a tram; your path is not predetermined; you can travel on any path! Fate is nonsense; you are free, you choose your own path with your own mind!

The new mythology of love was that it bent to the fashion of the day, obligated to take the shape of doves, lilies, jewels. This is a lie. Love is sometimes as passionate as war.