Fate is the friend of the good, the guide of the wise, the tyrant of the foolish, the enemy of the bad.
Fate can be one mean god at times.
Fate, I think, is a thief.
The Gods give with one hand and take with the other.
Fate, at first so amenable, so reasonable, so open to negotiation, ends up by exacting a cruel revenge for happiness.
Alas! we are the sport of destiny.
Fate has never ladled out hardship very evenly, and this frequently trips our often infantile sense of justice.
Fate stalks us with depressing monotony from womb to tomb, and, when we are least expecting it, deals us a series of crushing blows from behind.
fate is not just whose cooking smells good, but which way the wind blows
