Quotessence
Home / Quotes / Quote by Guy Haley

Quote by Guy Haley

“Choices are made by men and women all over the galaxy every single moment of every single day. These are conscious moments of decision. They are what drives history onwards. It is man’s will that beats the path of time, not the designs of gods, or fate, or whatever you wish to call it. I am my own mistress. That is why we, of all the species in the galaxy, are the favoured of the Machine-God and made in his holy image. Nothing dictates what I shall do. I command gods in his name. They do not command me. Do you understand?”

Quote by Guy Haley

Work

Titandeath

Browse quotes and source details for this work. more

Author

Guy Haley

Browse famous quotes and profile details for Guy Haley. more

You May Also Like

“There is no such thing as luck. God arranged for our paths to cross in order to give me His assurance and the truth, and so I thank Him, and you. Good day." ... Although she was teeming with anger, humiliation, and grief, she didn't react as she had done in the past... Instead, she crossed the room with slow deliberation, feeling the gentle sway of her skirt, hearing the subtle rustle of her petticoats, conscious of the beat of her heart.”

“I must be drunk on moonlight to tell you this…but after I left you at Sparrow Inn, I…I couldn’t stop thinking about you. I didn’t know anything about you, and yet I had never met anyone so determined—or brazen. Not even Megari.” He laughed, then his expression turned serious once more. “Somehow, I knew I would see you again. It was as if I could feel our strands crossing. Yet when you came to Iro, you seemed different. Sadder, more withdrawn. I’d look for you in the kitchen as Pao and I walked around the castle. I wanted to make you smile.”

“In result of that weird interview, the numbness of my soul was for a moment resolved. And no wonder! I had actually seen the agent of fate. I had palpated the very flesh of fate--and its padded shoulder. A brilliant and monstrous mutation had suddenly taken place, and here was the instrument. Within the intricacies of the pattern (hurrying housewife, slippery pavement, a pest of a dog, steep grade, big car, baboon at its wheel), I could dimly distinguish my own vile contribution. Had I not been such a fool--or such an intuitive genius--to preserve that journal, fluids produced by vindictive anger and hot shame would not have blinded Charlotte in her dash to the mailbox. But even had they blinded her, still nothing might have happened, had not precise fate, that synchronizing phantom, mixed within its alembic the car and the dog and the sun and the shade and the wet and the weak and the strong and the stone.”