You can never know about about your own destiny: are the people you meet there to play a part on your oun destiny, or do you exist just to play a role in theirs?

We lust after the material things in life, then in a blink of an eye; the life which was once given is taken; is there a point in stressing over the small stuff.

You are here to make a difference, to either improve the world or worsen it. And whether or not you consciously choose to, you will accomplish one or the other.

Inside us lies every possibility that is available to a sentient being. Every darkness, every light. It is the choices we make that decide who or what we will be.

If you ever have to choose between loving two people, always pick the second. If you really loved the first, you wouldn't have fallen in love with the second.

Your destiny has not been decided by others, but by you. Fate determines our choices; but our choices determine fate. You will carry it out because you choose to.

You can be bit in the leg by a rattlesnake and seek help to heal your wound, or you can run after it and let the poison take your leg. The same is true with love.

It would be advisable to realize that we will eventually become whatever it is that we’ve created. And too often what we’ve created is a massive mess.

There was nothing dishonourable in not being blown about by every little modern wind. Better to have worth, to entrench, to be an oak of one's own generation.

Perhaps someday, when you are a father, Prince, you will understand how empty is your heart if your child is a hollow toy that you can move where you will him to be

It is easy to decide on what is wrong to wear to a party, such as deep-sea diving equipment or a pair of large pillows, but deciding what is right is much trickier.

What matters isn't what you are, it's who you are, right now, in this moment. What matters are the choices we make. That's what defines us. Nothing else.

The truth is that this was something over which I had no control and the question is not why but what. What am I going to do with this? What am I going to make of it?

The multiple choices and possibilities of daily life are the music we dance to. They are like strings on a guitar. Strum them and you make a pleasing sound. A harmonic.

Thirteen years of friendship had bonded us together more thoroughly than if we had been born of the same mother. Even at this late stage, I was unwilling to let him go.