Little folks become their little fate.

The future, like everything else, is no longer quite what it used to be.

Tomorrow never comes, man. It’s all the same fucking day.

All progress is based upon a universal, innate desire on the part of every organism to live beyond its income.

Men are able to assist fortune but not to thwart her. They can weave her designs, but they cannot destroy them.

As natural selection works solely by and for the good of each being, all corporeal and mental endowments will tend to progress toward perfection.

I don’t try to describe the future. I try to prevent it.

Often the prudent, far from making their destinies, succumb to them; it is destiny which makes them prudent.

God seems to have left the receiver off the hook, and time is running out.

The future comes like an unwelcome guest.

I like the dreams of the future better than the history of the past.

We must confess that at present the rich predominate, but the future will be for the virtuous and ingenious.

It would be madness, and inconsistency, to suppose that things which have never yet been performed can be performed without employing some hitherto untried means.