There is no one, says another, whom fortune does not visit once in his life; but when she does not find him ready to receive her, she walks in at the door, and flies out at the window.
Sentiment: NEGATIVE
Therefore if a man look sharply and attentively, he shall see Fortune; for though she be blind, yet she is not invisible.
He who seeks does not find, but he who does not seek will be found.
There is one type of ideal woman very seldom described in poetry - the old maid, the woman whom sorrow or misfortune prevents from fulfilling her natural destiny.
See how fortune deludes us, and that which we put carefully into her hands, she either breaks or lets it fall from her hands, or causes it to be removed by the violence of another, or suffocates and poisons, or taints with suspicion, fear and jealousy to the great hurt and ruin of the possessor.
Pure love and suspicion cannot dwell together: at the door where the latter enters, the former makes its exit.
Nature is forever arriving and forever departing, forever approaching, forever vanishing; but in her vanishings there seems to be ever the waving of a hand, in all her partings a promise of meetings farther along the road.
Fortune blinds men when she does not wish them to withstand the violence of her onslaughts.
Fortune rarely accompanies anyone to the door.
It is madness to make fortune the mistress of events, because by herself she is nothing and is ruled by prudence.
This world is run with far too tight a rein for luck to interfere. Fortune sells her wares; she never gives them. In some form or other, we pay for her favors; or we go empty away.