It is not in the stars to hold our destiny but in ourselves.
Sweet are the uses of adversity
Our wills and fates do so contrary run, That our devices still are overthrown; Our thoughts are ours, their ends none of our own.
But yet I'll make assurance double sure, and take a bond of fate: thou shalt not live.
Hanging and wiving goes by destiny.
Such as we are made of, such we be.
O thou invisible spirit of wine, if thou hast no name to be known by, let us call thee devil.
Are you up to your destiny?
And by that destiny to perform an act Whereof what's past is prologue, what to come In yours and my discharge.
Haply for I am black, And have not those soft parts of conversation That chamberers have; or for I am declined Into the vale of years—yet that’s not much— She’s gone. I am abused, and my relief Must be to loathe her. O curse of marriage, That we can call these delicate creatures ours And not their appetites! I had rather be a toad And live upon the vapor of a dungeon Than keep a corner in the thing I love For others’ uses. Yet ’tis the plague of great ones; Prerogatived are they less than the base. ’Tis destiny unshunnable, like death.
I have a bone to pick with Fate
Fairies, black, grey, green, and white, You moonshine revellers, and shades of night, You orphan heirs of fixed destiny, Attend your office and your quality.
Who can control his fate?
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