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Updated: May 13, 2025
Though the Parcae have woven for me the destiny of a dog, it is the hand of Bacchus that shall sever the fatal thread! His cheeks were flushed, his eyes sparkled; all the mad energy of his determination appeared in his face as he spoke.
Pluto was perplexed; his confidence in the Parcae was shaken. A difficulty had occurred with which they could not cope. It was true the difficulty had been occasioned by a departure from their own exclusive and restrictive policy. It was clear that the gates of Hell ought never to have been opened to the stranger; but opened they had been.
In this these goddesses differ greatly from the Parcae, whose ordinances not even Zeus could withstand, as Lucian lets us know in one of the most audacious and philosophical of the dialogues. The Hathors seem rather to deal with what we should call luck than with fate: they see the nature of the close of life from its beginning, without either knowing or controlling its details.
A lie which, by long use and wont, we have grown accustomed to, and do not the least feel to be a lie, having spoken and done it continually everywhere for such a long time past; but has Nature grown to accept it as a veracity, think you, my friend? Have the Parcae fallen asleep, because you wanted to make money in the City?
My landlord, I think, suspects that Medea must be some lady I met while I was staying by the seaside. I am sure Sora Serafina, Sora Lodovica, and Sora Adalgisa the three Parcae or Norns, as I call them have some such notion. This afternoon, at dusk, while tidying my room, Sora Lodovica said to me, "How beautifully the Signorino has taken to singing!"
Father, mother, and sister, seated round the family hearth, fatal as some domestic Parcae, had hatched their horrid scheme, while the helpless lad amused himself yonder in the great city, happily unconscious of the web that was being woven to enmesh him.
It shall be Rose, and then I can call her mine; for in verity I love the child. So these Parcae, daughters of the shears, arranged and settled the young man's fate.
It would seem as if, at the very birth of most of our modern poems, 'The conscious Parcae threw Upon their roseate lips a Stygian hue. That their lives may be prolonged is my pious prayer. In these bad days, when it is thought more educationally useful to know the principle of the common pump than Keats's 'Ode on a Grecian Urn, one cannot afford to let any good poetry die.
"Is that your son?" asked Doris. "No, dame, he is only my pupil; but I feel as if he were my son." "He is a beautiful lad!" "Why, the old lady still looks after the young men!" "We do not give that up till we are a hundred or till the Parcae cut the thread of life." "What a confession!" "Let me finish my speech.
"Is that your son?" asked Doris. "No, dame, he is only my pupil; but I feel as if he were my son." "He is a beautiful lad!" "Why, the old lady still looks after the young men!" "We do not give that up till we are a hundred or till the Parcae cut the thread of life." "What a confession!" "Let me finish my speech.
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