The future...something which everyone reaches at the rate of sixty minutes an hour, whatever he does, whoever he is.

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

Not a change for the better in our human housekeeping has ever taken place that wise and good men have not opposed it—have not prophesied that the world would wake up to find its throat cut in consequence.

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

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