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.

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

Time will reveal everything. It is a babbler and speaks even when not asked.

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

Fate leads the willing and drags along those who hang back.

Little folks become their little fate.

The world began without man, and it will end without him.

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.

My interest is in the future, because I am going to spend the rest of my life there.

The future comes like an unwelcome guest.

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