I know that nothing comes to pass but what God appoints; our fate is decreed, and things do not happen by chance, but every man's portion of joy and sorrow is predetermined.
The Fates guide those who go willingly. Those who do not, they drag.
Nobody becomes guilty by fate.
The fates lead the willing, and drag the unwilling.
It's the great soul that surrenders itself to fate, but a puny degenerate thing that struggles.
Call it Nature, Fate, Fortune; all these are names of the one and selfsame God.
As fate is inexorable, and not to be moved either with tears or reproaches, an excess of sorrow is as foolish as profuse laughter; while, on the other hand, not to mourn at all is insensibility.
Such as the chain of causes we call Fate, such is the chain of wishes: one links on to another; the whole man is bound in the chain of wishing for ever.
While the fates permit, live happily; life speeds on with hurried step, and with winged days the wheel of the headlong year is turned.
Fate rules the affairs of men, with no recognizable order.
Fate leads the willing, and drags along the reluctant.
