“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.”
“In vain we chisel, as best we can, the mysterious block of which our life is made, the black vein of destiny reappears continuously.”
“Carve as we will the mysterious block of which our life is made, the black vein of destiny constantly reappears in it.”
“... the scarlet thread,the red clay from which we were made, runs in tiny streams through all our veins, reminding us of where we began...”
“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.”
“For this wire is as a part of our body, as a vein torn from us, glowing with our blood. Are we proud of this thread of metal, or of our hands which made it, or is there a line to divide these two?”