Man, alone, has the power to transform his thoughts into physical reality; man, alone, can dream and make his dreams come true.

The math is dead simple: it seems that the frequency of planets able to support life is roughly one percent. In other words, a billion or more such worlds exist in our galaxy alone. That's a lot of acreage, and it takes industrial-strength credulity to believe it's all bleakly barren.

Those who occupy their minds with small matters, generally become incapable of greatness.

Fortune makes a fool of those she favors too much.

Any passion to collect has some meaning behind it.