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Lord Byron

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Whose game was empires and whose stakes were thrones,
Whose table earth, whose dice were human bones.
--
Age of Bronze, Stanza 3, reported in Bartlett's Familiar Quotations, 10th ed. (1919)

 
Lord Byron

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Where is he, the champion and the child
Of all that's great or little, wise or wild;
Whose game was empires, and whose stakes were thrones;
Whose table earth whose dice were human bones?

 
Lord Byron
 

The gods throw the dice, and they don't ask whether we want to be in the game or not. They don't care if when you go, you leave behind a lover, a home, a career, or a dream. The gods don't care whether you have it all, whether it seems that your every desire can be met through hard work and persistence. The gods don't want to know about your plans and your hopes. Somewhere they're throwing the dice and you are chosen. From then on, winning or losing is only a question of luck.
The gods throw the dice, freeing love from its cage. And love can create or destroy depending on the direction of the wind when it is set free.

 
Paulo Coelho
 

Alas, the debt someone incurs at the gambling table, by throwing dice, in a game of cards, is called a debt of honor; I suppose that because it is meaningless in itself we have to give it an impressive name and then hurry to be rid of it. The debt to God is not a debt of honor like that, but it is, nevertheless, an honor to be in debt to God. It is an honor not to owe fortune anything, but to owe God everything; not to owe fate anything, but to owe providence everything; not to owe caprice anything, but to owe a fatherliness everything.-In this way, he who prays aright struggles in prayer and is victorious in that God is victorious.

 
Soren Aabye Kierkegaard
 

There's a game out there, and the stakes are high. And the guy who runs it figures the averages all day long and all night long. Once in a while he lets you steal a pot. But if you stay in the game long enough, you've got to lose. And once you've lost there's no way back, no way at all.

 
Dalton Trumbo
 

Faith is cold as ice.
Why are little ones born only to suffer
for the want of immunity, or a bowl of rice?
Well, who would hold a price on the heads of the innocent children
if there's some immortal power to control the dice?
-- Roll The Bones (1991)

 
Neil Peart
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