It is no longer fashionable, or even respectable, to talk of fate or destiny taking a hand. Love is a random matter, no more than that, in a universe governed by chance, which has swept aside all other deities and taken on a power that is all but supreme. But what a dull deity Chance is in comparison to those it has vanished. Dressed up as cool rationality — how rational it is, after all, to assert that there is no reason for anything — it appeals only to the impoverished of spirit.
-Iain Pears, The Dream of Scipio