Almost eighty years far from each other and very different from each other in their tones but so close after all:
After such knowledge, what forgiveness? Think now
History has many cunning passages, contrived corridors
And issues, deceives with whispering ambitions,
Guides us by vanities. Think now
She gives when our attention is distracted
And what she gives, gives with such supple confusions
That the giving famishes the craving. Gives too late
What’s not believed in, or if still believed,
In memory only, reconsidered passion.
Destiny has no beeper; destiny always leans trenchcoated out of an alley with some sort of Pssst that you usually can't hear because you are in such a rush to or from something important you have tried to engineer.
You substitute "history" with "destiny" and you get the same tremendous truth.