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Updated: May 3, 2025
In spite of the view that Hadria had expounded in her capacity of lecturer, she had an inner sense that somehow, after all, the will can perform astonishing feats in Fate's despite. Her intellect, rather than her heart, had opposed the philosophy of Emerson. Her sentiment recoiled from admitting the possibility of such tragedy as her expressed belief implied.
But he could not help remembering that long ago eighteen months ago what he had admired most in her had been this same spirit, this game refusal to be disturbed by Fate's blows. It braced him up. He sat down and looked curiously at her. 'So you left the stage? he said. 'I thought we agreed when we parted not to speak to one another, said she, coldly. 'Did we?
Under the influence of this conviction, it might be supposed that neither would offer any further opposition to Fate's decree, but would yield to what might appear their "manifest destiny." As it was, however, fatalism was not the faith of either.
Nor was any grave mentor by, to assure him that his tragic state was the issue of an evil digestion of his dinner and wine. "I must forget myself. I'm under some doom. I see it now. Nobody cares for me. I don't know what happiness is. I was born under a bad star. My fate's written." Following his youthful wisdom, this wounded hart dragged his slow limbs toward the halls of brandy and song.
Grancy's death came to me with the shock of an immense blunder one of fate's most irretrievable acts of vandalism. It was as though all sorts of renovating forces had been checked by the clogging of that one wheel. Not that Mrs. Grancy contributed any perceptible momentum to the social machine: her unique distinction was that of filling to perfection her special place in the world.
For the thousandth time he asked himself if he had come in time to find her, or if fate's maddening delays had proved his own and the girl's undoing. O'Reilly knew that although Matanzas was a prison and a pesthole, a girl like Rosa would suffer therein perils infinitely worse than imprisonment or disease. It was a thought he could not bear to dwell upon.
And that place was given over entirely to chaffinches, all hens, tripping, mincing, pecking, feasting, fighting because they were chaffinches, I suppose, and must fight all over the place. The thrush came to anchor upon the roof of the summer-house, and straightway fell upon his beak! And that was Fate's punishment for laziness, one second's relaxation from vigilance.
It's not because there will be compensation that I hold it the decentest thing to put up with the mechancetés of fate, fate's ingenious stabs in the tender, as they come, without giving the exhibition of one's vulnerability, or poisoning one's system with hate!" "But there will," she continued to insist, "there will be compensations.
Good, good. As a respectable man now, I couldn't have stashed you from the cops though I might have been tempted mighty tempted." His face was melancholy. "Tell me, lad, did they get Murdoch?" Bruce Gordon nodded, and the old man sighed. Something suspiciously like a tear glistened in his eyes. "I thought you were taking a bath," Gordon commented. The old man chuckled. "Fate's against me, cobber.
At the moment when he had left London, thoroughly disgusted with the entire theatrical world in general and the company which was rehearsing Fate's Footballs in particular, rehearsals had just reached that stage of brisk delirium when the author toys with his bottle of poison and the stage-manager becomes icily polite.
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