Twice Is A Coincidence Quotes

Once is happenstance. Twice is coincidence. Three times is enemy action

Mr Bond, they have a saying in Chicago: 'Once is happenstance. Twice is coincidence. The third time it's enemy action'.

Once is an accident. Twice is a coincidence. Thrice is a pattern.

Oogway: There are no accidents. Shifu: [sighs] Yes, I know. You've already said that twice. Oogway: That was no accident either. Shifu: Thrice.

Once is a stranger; twice is a coincidence; three times is a tail.

- Once is a coincidence, twice is a pattern. What's three times, Mr Harper? - Fate.

Once is an accident; twice is a coincidence; three times is a conspiracy.

What is to be done with the millions of facts that bear witness that men, consciously, that is fully understanding their real interests, have left them in the background and have rushed headlong on another path, to meet peril and danger, compelled to this course by nobody and by nothing, but, as it were, simply disliking the beaten track, and have obstinately, wilfully, struck out another difficult, absurd way, seeking it almost in the darkness. So, I suppose, this obstinacy and perversity were pleasanter to them than any advantage... The fact is, gentlemen, it seems there must really exist something that is dearer to almost every man than his greatest advantages, or (not to be illogical) there is a most advantageous advantage (the very one omitted of which we spoke just now) which is more important and more advantageous than all other advantages, for the sake of which a man if necessary is ready to act in opposition to all laws; that is, in opposition to reason, honour, peace, prosperity -- in fact, in opposition to all those excellent and useful things if only he can attain that fundamental, most advantageous advantage which is dearer to him than all. "Yes, but it's advantage all the same," you will retort. But excuse me, I'll make the point clear, and it is not a case of playing upon words. What matters is, that this advantage is remarkable from the very fact that it breaks down all our classifications, and continually shatters every system constructed by lovers of mankind for the benefit of mankind. In fact, it upsets everything... One's own free unfettered choice, one's own caprice, however wild it may be, one's own fancy worked up at times to frenzy -- is that very "most advantageous advantage" which we have overlooked, which comes under no classification and against which all systems and theories are continually being shattered to atoms. And how do these wiseacres know that man wants a normal, a virtuous choice? What has made them conceive that man must want a rationally advantageous choice? What man wants is simply independent choice, whatever that independence may cost and wherever it may lead. And choice, of course, the devil only knows what choice. Of course, this very stupid thing, this caprice of ours, may be in reality, gentlemen, more advantageous for us than anything else on earth, especially in certain cases… for in any circumstances it preserves for us what is most precious and most important -- that is, our personality, our individuality. Some, you see, maintain that this really is the most precious thing for mankind; choice can, of course, if it chooses, be in agreement with reason… It is profitable and sometimes even praiseworthy. But very often, and even most often, choice is utterly and stubbornly opposed to reason ... and ... and ... do you know that that, too, is profitable, sometimes even praiseworthy? I believe in it, I answer for it, for the whole work of man really seems to consist in nothing but proving to himself every minute that he is a man and not a piano-key! …And this being so, can one help being tempted to rejoice that it has not yet come off, and that desire still depends on something we don't know? You will scream at me (that is, if you condescend to do so) that no one is touching my free will, that all they are concerned with is that my will should of itself, of its own free will, coincide with my own normal interests, with the laws of nature and arithmetic. Good heavens, gentlemen, what sort of free will is left when we come to tabulation and arithmetic, when it will all be a case of twice two make four? Twice two makes four without my will. As if free will meant that!

In this city, we've got a saying: once is coincidence, twice is a booking offense! -Judge Dredd

Sure, kid. Look, there's a very old saying in my family: 'Once is happenstance. Twice is coincidence. Three times is another wizard fucking with you.

One is random, twice is coincidence, and three times is a pattern.

Once means happenstance, twice means coincidence, three times means enemy action.

Although Fate loves coincidences, it does not chew its cabbage twice.

Twice is coincidence. Three times is enemy action.

Maybe being with Cade was a need…my body needed him more than I realized. He was a part of me, whether I wanted him to be or not. We fit together, in every sense, perfectly. Yes, he had a drinking problem, and I possessed low self-esteem…but together…together we were amazing. We could do anything, go anywhere. Our lives were destined to cross, not just once, but twice. It wasn’t just coincidence, or Cade’s dad, that allowed us to meet again after so many years. It was much more. The universe had made us for each other, and it was time I stop fighting it.

Once is happenstance. Twice is coincidence. Three times is enemy action. -Ian Fleming

Look, there’s a very old saying in my family: ‘Once is happenstance. Twice is coincidence. Three times is another wizard fucking with you.

Goldfinger said, "Mr. Bond, they have a saying in Chicago: 'Once is happenstance, twice is coincidence, the third time it's enemy action.

once was happenstance, twice might be coincidence, but thrice or more indicated the actions of your enemies.

Sure, kid. Look, there’s a very old saying in my family: ‘Once is happenstance. Twice is coincidence. Three times is another wizard fucking with you.

We have already explained that, of course — even a stopped clock is right twice a day. Besides, it was only coincidence. (Remember that phrase. It is the self-hypnotic chant by which the New Inquisition banishes all evidence it does not like. We will hear it often.)

In the first three days after vaccination, coinciding with the time when the virus was most contagious, subjects interacted with twice as many people as they had before being inoculated. “People who had very limited or simple social lives were suddenly deciding that they needed to go out to bars or parties or invite a bunch of people over,” reported Reiber.

I'd just put Ed Hickey into a taxi. Ed had been mixing his rye with his gin, and I just felt that he needed conveying. Well, anyway, I was walking down along the street and I heard this voice saying, "Good evening, Mr. Dowd." Well, I turned around and here was this big six-foot rabbit leaning up against a lamp-post. Well, I thought nothing of that because when you've lived in a town as long as I've lived in this one, you get used to the fact that everybody knows your name. And naturally I went over to chat with him. And he said to me... he said, "Ed Hickey was a little spiffed this evening, or could I be mistaken?" Well, of course, he was not mistaken. I think the world and all of Ed, but he was spiffed. Well, we talked like that for awhile and then I said to him, I said, "You have the advantage on me. You know my name and I don't know yours." And, and right back at me he said, "What name do you like?" Well, I didn't even have to think twice about that. Harvey's always been my favorite name. So I said to him, I said, "Harvey." And, uh, this is the interesting thing about the whole thing: He said, "What a coincidence. My name happens to be Harvey.

The synchrodestiny prescription is to meditate for fifteen to twenty minutes twice a day, followed by a moment of extending an invitation to your archetypes (as described in the previous chapter). If you do that twice a day, you’ll start to see a transformation in your life. Beyond that, conduct yourself just as you always have before. Meditate in the morning, live the rest of your day, and then meditate again in the evening. That alone will start you on the road to transforming your life and creating the miracles you want.

We can be very sure there really is a single concestor of all surviving life forms on this planet. The evidence is that all that have ever been examined share (exactly in most cases, almost exactly in the rest) the same genetic code; and the genetic code is too detailed, in arbitrary aspects of its complexity, to have been invented twice. Although not every species has been examined, we already have enough coverage to be pretty certain that no surprises—alas—await us. If we now were to discover a life form sufficiently alien to have a completely different genetic code, or one not even based on DNA, it would be the most exciting biological discovery in my adult lifetime, whether it lives on this planet or another. As things stand, it appears that all known life forms can be traced to a single ancestor which lived more than 3 billion years ago. If there were other, independent origins of life, they have left no descendants that we have discovered. And if new ones arose now they would swiftly be eaten, probably by bacteria. The grand confluence of all surviving life is not the same thing as the origin of life itself. This is because all surviving species presumably share a concestor who lived after the origin of life: anything else would be an unlikely coincidence, for it would suggest that the original life form immediately branched and more than one of its branches survive to this day. The oldest bacterial fossils found so far date to about 3.5 billion years ago, so the origin of life must at least be earlier than that. The grand confluence—the last common ancestor of all surviving creatures—could predate the oldest fossils (it didn’t fossilise) or it could have lived a billion years later (all but one of the other lineages went extinct).

You will scream at me (that is, if you condescend to do so) that no one is touching my free will, that all they are concerned with is that my will should of itself, of its own free will, coincide with my own normal interests, with the laws of nature and arithmetic. Good heavens, gentlemen, what sort of free will is left when we come to tabulation and arithmetic, when it will all be a case of twice two make four? Twice two makes four without my will. As if free will meant that!

When the poet finds it advisable to repeat a given description or incident, he makes this repeated passage coincide with the original to the very last detail. Thus when a god or hero orders his messenger to deliver a message, this message, no matter how long and detailed, is given twice in the text, first when the messenger is instructed by his master, and a second time when the message is actually delivered.

Once was luck and twice was coincidence, but three times? That was a pattern,

I regard criticism as a modern form of public execution. The public used to have the delight of seeing somebody hanged twice a week. That was the chief entertainment in earlier ages. As we have gotten civilized (ha ha ha), this is no longer acceptable to society. And now they do it to artists. You can see the sadism in the attacks on some artists, such as the semiannual crucifixion of Norman Mailer by the New York literary critics. There is a great similarity to the public execution: Mailer sticks his head up and dares to utter another book and they all come running with clubs, sabers and other weapons to ritually tear the books apart.

Repeat a mistake once, it's a lesson. Twice, it's a coincidence. Thrice, it's a subscription to a comedy show called "Oops, I Did It Again!

Once is happenstance. Twice is coincidence. Three times is enemy action. —Ian Fleming

Putting this all together, Moore and Reiber predicted that the germ would prod people to seek out the company of others early in the infection, before it had blown its cover and triggered a counterattack by defense cells. Once they’d formulated a hypothesis, they decided it would be wise to conduct a pilot trial to see if the idea had any merit. The researchers tracked the social interactions of thirty-six people—none of whom knew the purpose of the study—before and after they got flu shots at a health clinic on the Binghamton campus. The change in the subjects’ behavior was huge, so notable that its magnitude surprised even Reiber and Moore. In the first three days after vaccination, coinciding with the time when the virus was most contagious, subjects interacted with twice as many people as they had before being inoculated. “People who had very limited or simple social lives were suddenly deciding that they needed to go out to bars or parties or invite a bunch of people over,” reported Reiber. “This happened with lots of our subjects. It wasn’t just one or two oddities.

Not knowing what to make of it, he admired her longer. The fact that she’d chosen his bed couldn’t be a coincidence, so he threw caution to the wind and crawled in beneath the blankets. Her hair smelled like lilacs, and when he curled his arms around her, she snuggled in closer against him. While she’d gone to bed in too much clothing—her simple nightshift interrupting the skin-to-skin contact he would have preferred—she was still an improvement over sleeping alone. He nuzzled her once or twice but found her sound asleep, unresponsive aside from a content, indiscernible murmur. The peaceful rhythm of her breathing lulled him to sleep. With his arms around her, he held her safe and secure.

In the first three days after vaccination, coinciding with the time when the virus was most contagious, subjects interacted with twice as many people as they had before being inoculated.

What did Ian Fleming say? Once is happenstance, twice is coincidence, three times is enemy action. And I don’t believe in waiting for even that much evidence. It was past time to act.

George, please sit down,” Luke said. “Visit a while.” “Thanks, don’t mind if I do.” George pulled a chair over from an empty table and sat right beside Maureen so that she was sandwiched between himself and Art. “What brings you back to town so soon?” he asked her. “I’m, ah, visiting.” “Fantastic,” he said. “A long visit, I hope.” Luke took his seat, chuckling as he did so. “I have a brother here right now—Sean. You might remember him as my best man. He just discovered he has a young daughter in the area. Mom is visiting us and getting to know her first granddaughter, Rosie, three and a half and smart as a whip.” “How wonderful!” George said enthusiastically. “You must be having the time of your life!” Maureen lifted a thin brow, wary of his reaction. “I am enjoying her, yes.” “First one? I suppose before too much longer the other boys will be adding to the flock.” “Only the married ones, I hope,” Maureen said. “Do you have grandchildren, Mr. Davenport?” “Oh, let’s not be so formal—I’m George. Only step-grandchildren. I had no children of my own, in fact. Noah’s the closest thing to a son I’ve ever had, but I started out as his teacher. I’m a professor at Seattle Pacific University. I’ve known him quite a few years now. I’m here to be his best man on Friday night. I hope you’re all coming to the wedding.” “Wouldn’t miss it,” Luke said, grabbing Shelby’s hand. “And…Maureen?” George asked pointedly. “I’m not sure,” she said evasively. “Well, try to come,” he said. “These Virgin River people know how to have a good time. In fact, I have an idea. Once I have my best-man duties out of the way, I suggest we go to dinner. I’ll take you someplace nice in one of the coast towns, though it’ll be hard to improve on Preacher’s cooking. But we deserve some time away from all these young people, don’t you think?” “Excuse me, George?” she asked. “I assume you were married?” “Twice, as a matter of fact. Divorced a long time ago and, more recently, widowed. My wife died a few years ago. Maybe we should pick an evening and exchange phone numbers,” he suggested. “That’s very nice of you, but no. I don’t go out with men.” “Really?” he asked, surprised by her immediate refusal. “And why is that?” “I’m a widow,” she said. “A single woman.” “What a coincidence. And I’m a single man. I’m all for free thinking, but I wouldn’t ask you to dinner were I married. Are you recently widowed?” Out of the corner of his eye, George saw Luke snicker and look away. “Yes,” Maureen said. “Oh, I’m sorry,” he said. “I was under the impression it had been years. When did you lose your husband, Maureen?” She looked a bit shocked to be put on the spot like that. It was apparent she was trying to gather her wits. She put out her hand. “It was so nice to see you again, Mr….George. I’m glad you sat and visited awhile. Maybe I’ll see you at the wedding this weekend if I’m not needed for anything else. I should probably get on the road—I have to drive to Eureka.” She stood and George did, as well. “Eureka? You’re not staying here in Virgin River with your son?” “I’m staying with a friend just down the street from my granddaughter so I’m free to pick her up after preschool. We spend most afternoons together. Really, nice seeing you.” She turned to Luke. “I’m going to head back to Viv’s, Luke. Good night, Shelby. ’Night, Art. Thanks for dinner, it was great as usual.” “Wonderful seeing you, too,” George said. “Try to come to Noah’s wedding. I guarantee you’ll enjoy yourself.” Luke

It’s no mere coincidence that over the last century the top earners’ share of the nation’s total income peaked twice, in 1928 and 2007—the two years just preceding the biggest downturns.

Something that happens once is nothing. Something that repeats itself, or happens twice, is a coincidence. Something that happens three times, or more......then there’s a reason behind it; whether it’s dangerous or harmless, there’s always a reason.

Once is chance, twice is coincidence, third time is enemy action. That was military canon.

There is however the concept which Ian Fleming allowed “Goldfinger” to propound: “Once is happenstance. Twice is coincidence. The third time is enemy action.

Ian Fleming once said that once is happenstance, twice is a coincidence, but thrice is enemy action.

I kind of fell in love with you twice, Halle Levitt. I don't think that's a coincidence.

I assume the whispered sweet nothings and good-night kiss are off the table.” “Once is chance, twice is coincidence.” I turned my head. “What’s three times, Mr. Harper?” “Fate.

The first is that the estimated weight of the pyramid, multiplied by ten to the eighth power gives us the earth’s mass. Can it then be a coincidence that twice the perimeter of the granite coffer, multiplied by the same ten to the eighth power, gives us a number exactly equal to the sun’s mean radius?

I like to read,” he said. And then, apparently shifting gears, he went on, “Once is happenstance, twice is coincidence, three times is enemy action.” “Excuse me?” I said. He had lost me somewhere around “I like to read.” “It’s from Goldfinger,” he said. “Where he’s telling James Bond, I come across you three times where you don’t belong, it ain’t a coincidence.” He sipped, wiped his mouth, and watched me sweat. “Love that book. Must of read it like three, four times,” he said.

There's a quote by Ian Fleming that's appropriate. Once is happenstance. Twice is coincidence. Three times is enemy action. That kind of fits here, I think.

As of February 8, 1979, James Arthur Springer—Jim, as he went by—had been twice married. His first marriage, to a woman named Linda, ended in divorce. His second wife was named Betty. Jim Springer grew up in Ohio and once owned a dog named Toy. He had a son named James Allan (although perhaps with one L). He was a chain-smoker who liked beer. In his garage he had a woodworking bench. He drove a Chevy, suffered from high blood pressure and migraines, and once served as a sheriff’s deputy. His family lived on a quiet street—theirs was the only house on the block. As of February 8, 1979, James Edward Lewis—Jim, as he went by—had been twice married. His first marriage, to a woman named Linda, ended in divorce. His second wife was named Betty. Jim Lewis grew up in Ohio and once owned a dog named Toy. He had a son named James Allan (although perhaps with one L). He was a chain-smoker who liked beer. In his garage he had a woodworking bench. He drove a Chevy, suffered from high blood pressure and migraines, and once served as a sheriff’s deputy. His family lived on a quiet street—theirs was the only house on the block. As of February 8, 1979, Jim Springer and Jim Lewis had almost no knowledge of one another. They had met before, but only as infants. On February 9, 1979, the two met for the first time in nearly forty years. They were identical twins, given up for adoption as one-month-olds, now reunited. The shocking coincidence seems like that of myth, but it’s almost certainly not—shortly after the twins’ reunion, People magazine and Smithsonian magazine reported on the incredible confluence of genetically identical twins with anecdotally identical lives. The two men piqued the curiosity of a researcher named Thomas J. Bouchard, a professor of psychology and the director of the Minnesota Center for Twin and Adoption Research at the University of Minnesota.