Page 9, column 3, July 21, 1975, The Scunthorpe Evening Telegraph,Scunthorpe, England
It’s hard to believe in coincidence, but it’s even harder to believe in anything else. — John Green, Will Grayson, Will Grayson
Life is infinitely stranger than anything which the mind of man could invent. We would not dare to conceive the things which are really mere commonplaces of existence. If we could fly out of that window hand in hand, hover over this great city, gently remove the roofs, and peep in at the queer things which are going on, the strange coincidences, the plannings, the cross-purposes, the wonderful chains of events, working through generations, and leading to the most outré results, it would make all fiction with its conventionalities and foreseen conclusions most stale and unprofitable.
Arthur Conan Doyle, A Case of Identity
Coincidence and chance and unsearchable causes will now and again make clouds that are undeniable fiery dragons, and potatoes that resemble eminent statesmen exactly and minutely in every feature, and rocks that are like eagles and lions. All this is nothing; it is when you get your set of odd shapes and find that they fit into one another, and at last that they are but parts of a large design; it is then that research grows interesting and indeed amazing, it is then that one queer form confirms the other, that the whole plan displayed justifies, corroborates, explains each separate piece.
Arthur Machen via Whisky River
Change. It’s a wonderful thing. Look, you know how subatomic particles don’t obey physical laws? They act according to chance, chaos, coincidence. They run into each other in the middle of the universe somewhere and bang! Energy! We’re the same as that. That’s the great thing about the universe: unpredictable. That’s why it’s so much fun.
Casual Meeting painted by Kenneth Hayes Miller, 1928
It was one of those curious coincidences — as when we turn a corner and find ourselves face-to-face with the person we’ve just been thinking about. Or when we answer the telephone and hear at the other end the voice of the friend we had been about to call. These things make us believe in telepathy — for which there is as little hard evidence as there is, alas, for the existence of Santa Claus — or in pure chance, which we flatter ourselves into thinking plays a small role in our lives. — Alexander McCall Smith, The Comforts of a Muddy Saturday