God made dice, then he made men and women.

A plan may please a clan, but chance will make them dance.

Patterns lull us to sleep; randomness startles us awake.

Death adores luck.

Luck good, skill better, both best.

All success is spawned in a muddy pool of chance.

The random never ride tandem.

If random all, then flee the hall.

Skill is an amulet; it wards off luck.

Chance births despair, and joy.

Chance is God’s antidote for pride.

God will never dance to chance.

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