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Truly some men there be That live always in great horrour, And say it goeth by destiny To hang or wed: both hath one hour; And whether it be, I am well sure, Hanging is better of the twain; Sooner done, and shorter pain.

My death and life, My bane and antidote, are both before me.

For rarely man escapes his destiny.

Life treads on life, and heart on heart; We press too close in church and mart To keep a dream or grave apart.

There are certain events which to each man's life are as comets to the earth, seemingly strange and erratic portents; distinct from the ordinary lights which guide our course and mark our seasons, yet true to their own laws, potent in their own influences.

For I am a weed, Flung from the rock, on Ocean's foam, to sail, Where'er the surge may sweep, the tempest's breath prevail.

Art and power will go on as they have done,--will make day out of night, time out of space, and space out of time.

Character is fate.

No living man can send me to the shades Before my time; no man of woman born, Coward or brave, can shun his destiny.

All, soon or late, are doom'd that path to tread.

The future works out great men's destinies; The present is enough for common souls, Who, never looking forward, are indeed Mere clay wherein the footprints of their age Are petrified forever.

We are but as the instrument of Heaven. Our work is not design, but destiny.

We are what we must And not what we would be. I know that one hour Assures not another. The will and the power Are diverse.

Unseen hands delay The coming of what oft seems close in ken, And, contrary, the moment, when we say "'Twill never come!" comes on us even then.

They only fall, that strive to move, Or lose, that care to keep.

The irrevocable Hand That opes the year's fair gate, doth ope and shut The portals of our earthly destinies; We walk through blindfold, and the noiseless doors Close after us, forever.

Every man meets his Waterloo at last.

I feel that I am a man of destiny.

O Hamlet, what a falling-off was there, From me, whose love was of that dignity That it went hand in hand even with the vow I made to her in marriage, and to decline Upon a wretch whose natural gifts were poor To those of mine!

A man may fish with the worm that hath eat of a king, and eat of the fish that hath fed of that worm.