I'm a fatalist. . . . I consider I am rejected in principle. My work is and, through my work, I am. If it's accepted, it's miraculous or the result of a misunderstanding.
A pear should come to the table popped with juice, Ripened in warmth and served in warmth. On terms Like these, autumn beguiles the fatalist.
Like most Chinese, I am basically a fatalist - too sophisticated for religion and too superstitious to deny the gods.
nothing makes one so easily a fatalist as indifference.
I had always been a fatalist about my career. What was to be was to be.
I'm not a fatalist; even if I were, what could I do about it?