Fate will find a way.
Fate is not an eagle, it creeps like a rat.
This world is run with far too tight a rein for luck to interfere. Fortune sells her wares; she never gives them. In some form or other, we pay for her favors; or we go empty away.
Destiny waits alike for the free man as well as for him enslaved by another's might.
It is the destiny of mint to be crushed.
Fact I know; and Law I know; but what is this Necessity, save an empty shadow of my own mind's throwing?
Criminality being partially preordained may seem to let culprits off the hook. Yet it also makes the proclivity seem ineradicable and suggests that reform is unlikely: once a baddie, always a baddie.
It goes against the American storytelling grain to have someone in a situation he can't get out of, but I think this is very usual in life.
