Allan Quatermain (H. Rider Haggard)
'I have just buried my boy, my poor handsome boy of whom I was so proud, and my heart is broken. It is very hard having only one son to lose him thus, but God's will be done. Who am I that I should complain? The great wheel of Fate rolls on like a Juggernaut, and crushes us all in turn, some soon, some late-it does not matter when, in the end, it crushes us all. We do not prostrate ourselves before it like the poor Indians; we fly hither and thither-we cry for mercy; but it is of no use, the black Fate thunders on and in its season reduces us to powder. (Trecho do Livro)
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