We start each day with a blank sheet of paper in front of us, and what we write on it is up to us.

Life calls the tune, we dance.

Hypothetically, if the only choice you got is to do the wrong thing, then its not really a wrong thing; its more like fate. You have to do what you have to do.

Maybe our mistakes are what make our fate.

Meeting you was fate, becoming your friend was a choice, but falling in love with you I had no control over.

'Tis Fate that flings the dice, And as she flings Of kings makes peasants, And of peasants kings.