The world will resist you.  It will exceed your grasp.  It will gractivce indifference towards you.  Like a borrowed shirt, it will fit you imperfectly, it will be loose in the neck, short in the cuff, and the tag will itch.  The world will irritate you, bruise you, thwart you, anger you.  In the end, it will even--for at least a time--kill you.  Suffering the indignity of these rounds, yo will, be default, be tempted to just flit from one offense to the next, simmering in frustration, stewing in quiet desperation.  But to live, you will have to let these offenses go.  You will have to learn how to make and accept recompense.  You will have to forget the fiction of cash equivelances and barter with whatever is at hand.  You didn't get what you wanted?  Or even what you needed?  Your life was repurposed by others fro something other than what you had in mind?  Join the party.  I'm sympathetic, but in the end these objections are going nowhere.  That bus, while always idling, never actually leaves the station.  You presume a world that doesn't exist, and you fantasize a fixer-God who, unlike ours, is Himself doing something other than divinely serving, borrowing, and repurposing.  Ask instead, what were you given?  where were you taken?  what was your recompense?  Learn to like lemonade.

Adam S. Miller, Rube Goldberg Machines, pg. 57

He poked through the caked mud around the grounds and found almost nothing he could recognize.  He scuffed along through the ashes and kicked up one of hte spikes he'd used in building the cabins's walls, but couldn't find any others.

He saw no sign of their Bible, either.  If the Lord had failed to protect even the book of his own Word, this proved to Grainier that here had come a fire stronger than God.

Denis Johnson, Train Dreams pg. 45

"No one knows he is fortunate until he becomes unfortunate."

-Chaim Potok, The Chosen (pg. 78)