“In vain we chisel, as best we can, the mysterious block of which our life is made, the black vein of destiny reappears continuously.”

“Though we chisel away as best we can at the mysterious block from which our life is made, the black vein of destiny continually reappears.”

“Carve as we will the mysterious block of which our life is made, the black vein of destiny constantly reappears in it.”

“Sometimes it is best for men not to attempt to interfere with destiny. Our prayers can be answered in ways which we do not expect and do not welcome.”

“Do what we may to shape the mysterious stuff of which our lives are composed, the dark threads of our destiny will always re-emerge.”

“What is life? Thoughts and feelings arise, with or without our will, and we employ words to express them. We are born, and our birth is unremembered and our infancy remembered but in fragments. We live on, and in living we lose the apprehension of life. How vain is it to think that words can penetrate the mystery of our being. Rightly used they may make evident our ignorance of ourselves, and this is much.”