"So-called human fate is like day and night, fortune and misfortune, the moon waxes and wanes... Uh, that's not right.
It should be when a man is about to die, his words become... Damn, still not it.
Ah, right, it should be: fortune stems from disaster, and disaster follows fortune—that's it, I really shouldn't have slept through all my Chinese literature classes.
Fate, huh? It's always full of 'eggs' of sorrow and thick desolation. Mr. Cao, after finishing 'Short Song', at the peak of his life, got burnt in the Chibi arson case that scorched eighty-three thousand of his friends and followers. Napoleon, famous all his life, was finally thwarted by one of his useless generals. Even Hamlet, who studied DOA under the moon, was tormented by Shakespeare with the word fate for a lifetime, not to mention Gilgamesh, the eldest king of mankind, who now ends up having to sleep with a little girl's toy every night—fate is inherently a bitch.
