The best way to predict the future is to invent it.

A tunnel underneath the sea from Calais straight to Dover, Sir, The squeamish folks may cross by land from shore to shore, With sluices made to drown the French, if e'er they would come over, Sir, Has long been talk'd of, till at length 'tis thought a monstrous bore.

Thy voice sounds like a prophet's word; And in its hollow tones are heard The thanks of millions yet to be.

From hence, no question, has sprung an observation . . . confirmed now into a settled opinion, that some long experienced souls in the world, before their dislodging, arrive to the height of prophetic spirit.

Ancestral voices prophesying war.

I shall always consider the best guesser the best prophet. [Lat., Bene qui conjiciet, vatem hunc perhibebo optimum.]