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You Can't Become Abode Again past Thomas Wolfe
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Yous Can't Become Domicile Over again Quotes Showing 1-30 of 48

"Brand your mistakes, accept your chances, wait featherbrained, simply proceed on going. Don't freeze upwardly."
― Thomas Wolfe, You Can't Go Home Again

"Child, child, have patience and belief, for life is many days, and each present hour volition laissez passer away. Son, son, you accept been mad and drunken, furious and wild, filled with hatred and despair, and all the dark confusions of the soul - but so have we. You lot found the earth likewise great for your one life, yous found your brain and sinew smaller than the hunger and want that fed on them - simply it has been this way with all men. You take stumbled on in darkness, you have been pulled in opposite directions, y'all have faltered, you have missed the mode, merely, kid, this is the chronicle of the earth. And at present, because you lot accept known madness and despair, and because you will grow desperate again before y'all come to evening, nosotros who have stormed the ramparts of the furious world and been hurled back, we who have been maddened by the unknowable and bitter mystery of dear, we who have hungered after fame and savored all of life, the tumult, pain, and frenzy, and at present sit quietly past our windows watching all that henceforth never more shall touch usa - we call upon y'all to take heart, for we tin can swear to you lot that these things pass."
― Thomas Wolfe, You Can't Go Home Again

"Something has spoken to me in the night...and told me that I shall die, I know not where. Saying: "[Death is] to lose the earth you know for greater knowing; to lose the life you accept, for greater life; to leave the friends you lot loved, for greater loving; to find a land more kind than abode, more large than world."
― Thomas Wolfe, You Tin't Go Dwelling Again

"From p. forty of Signet Edition of Thomas Wolfe'southward _You Can't Go Domicile Again_ (1940):

Some things will never change. Some things will always be the same. Lean down your ear upon the earth and listen.

The voice of forest water in the nighttime, a woman'due south laughter in the nighttime, the make clean, hard rattle of raked gravel, the cricketing stitch of midday in hot meadows, the delicate spider web of children's voices in bright air--these things will never change.

The glitter of sunlight on roughened water, the glory of the stars, the innocence of morning, the olfactory property of the bounding main in harbors, the feathery blur and smoky buddings of young boughs, and something there that comes and goes and never can exist captured, the thorn of jump, the precipitous and tongueless cry--these things will always exist the same.

All things belonging to the earth will never change--the leafage, the blade, the flower, the wind that cries and sleeps and wakes once again, the trees whose stiff artillery clash and tremble in the nighttime, and the dust of lovers long since buried in the earth--all things proceeding from the world to seasons, all things that lapse and change and come up again upon the world--these things will always be the aforementioned, for they come up from the globe that never changes, they go back into the world that lasts forever. Only the earth endures, only it endures forever.

The tarantula, the adder, and the asp will also never change. Pain and death will always be the same. But under the pavements trembling similar a pulse, under the buildings trembling like a weep, under the waste of fourth dimension, nether the hoof of the beast above the cleaved bones of cities, there will be something growing like a flower, something bursting from the earth once more, forever deathless, true-blue, coming into life over again like Apr."
― Thomas Wolfe, You lot Tin't Get Home Again

"Information technology seems to me that in the orbit of our world yous are the North Pole, I the South--and so much in rest, in agreement--and yet... the whole earth lies between."
― Thomas Wolfe, You lot Can't Go Home Again

"He had learned some of the things that every human must find out for himself, and he had institute out near them equally i has to detect out--through error and through trial, through fantasy and illusion, through falsehood and his own damn foolishness, through being mistaken and wrong and an idiot and egotistical and aspiring and hopeful and believing and confused. Each matter he learned was and so uncomplicated and obvious, in one case he grasped it, that he wondered why he had not e'er known it. And what had he learned? A philosopher would not call up it much, perhaps, and nevertheless in a simple man style it was a good bargain. Merely by living, my making the thousand petty daily choices that his whole circuitous of heredity, surroundings, and witting thought, and deep emotion had driven him to make, and by taking the consequences, he had learned that he could not eat his cake and have it, likewise. He had learned that in spite of his foreign body, so much off scale that it had ofttimes made him call back himself a brute set apart, he was still the son and brother of all men living. He had learned that he could not devour the earth, that he must know and accept his limitations. He realized that much of his torment of the years past had been self-inflicted, and an inevitable part of growing up. And, nearly important of all for 1 who had taken so long to abound upward, he thought he had learned not to be the slave of his emotions."
― Thomas Wolfe, You Tin can't Go Home Again

"Maybe this is our strange and haunting paradox here in America -- that we are fixed and certain simply when we are in movement. At any rate, that is how it seemed to young George Webber, who was never so assured of his purpose every bit when he was going somewhere on a railroad train. And he never had the sense of home so much as when he felt that he was going there. It was only when he got at that place that his homelessness began."
― Thomas Wolfe, Yous Can't Go Domicile Again

"Peace fell upon her spirit. Strong comfort and assurance bathed her whole being. Life was so solid and splendid, and then practiced."
― Thomas Wolfe, Yous Can't Become Home Again

"But why had he ever felt so strongly the magnetic pull of abode, why had he thought and then much nigh it and remembered it with such blazing accuracy, if it did not matter, and if this piddling town, and the immortal hills effectually it, was non the only home he had on earth? He did not know. All that he knew was that the years period by like water, and that one twenty-four hour period men come home over again."
― Thomas Wolfe, You Can't Go Dwelling house Again

"At that place came to him an image of man's whole life upon the earth. Information technology seemed to him that all man's life was like a tiny spurt of flame that blazed out briefly in an illimitable and terrifying darkness, and that all man's grandeur, tragic dignity, his heroic glory, came from the brevity and smallness of this flame. He knew his life was piddling and would be extinguished, and that only darkness was immense and everlasting. And he knew that he would dice with defiance on his lips, and that the shout of his deprival would ring with the last pulsing of his middle into the maw of all-engulfing night."
― Thomas Wolfe, Y'all Can't Go Domicile Once more

"[T]he essence of conventionalities is doubt, the essence of reality is questioning. The essence of Time is Period, non Set. The essence of faith is the knowledge that all flows and that everything must change. The growing man is Man Live, and his "philosophy" must grow, must menstruation, with him. . . . the man as well fixed today, unfixed tomorrow - and his body of beliefs is nothing but a series of fixations."
― Thomas Wolfe, You Tin't Go Home Again

"Toil on, son, and practice not lose heart or hope. Allow nix you dismay. You are not utterly forsaken. I, too, am hither--here in the darkness waiting, hither attentive, here blessing of your labor and your dream."
― Thomas Wolfe, You Tin can't Get Abode Again

"All things belonging to the world will never change-the leafage, the bract, the flower, the wind that cries and sleeps and wakes once more, the trees whose stiff arms clash and tremble in the dark, and the dust of lovers long since buried in the earth-all things proceeding from the earth to seasons, all things that lapse and change and come again upon the earth-these things will always exist the aforementioned, for they come from the earth that never changes, they go back into the earth that lasts forever. Simply the earth endures, simply it endures forever."
― Thomas Wolfe, You Tin't Become Dwelling house Again

"Simply it is not but at these outward forms that nosotros must look to find the show of a nation'due south injure. We must look as well at the centre of guilt that beats in each of us, for there the cause lies. We must look, and with our own eyes see, the key core of defeat and shame and failure which we accept wrought in the lives of fifty-fifty the least of these, our brothers. And why must we expect? Because nosotros must probe to the lesser of our collective wound. As men, as Americans, we can no longer cringe away and lie. Are we non all warmed past the same lord's day, frozen by the same cold, shone on past the same lights of time and terror here in America? Yes, and if nosotros do not look and see it, we shall all be damned together."
― Thomas Wolfe, You Can't Go Dwelling Once again

"The human mind is a fearful musical instrument of adaptation, and in null is this more than clearly shown than in its mysterious powers of resilience, self-protection, and self-healing. Unless an event completely shatters the order of one'due south life, the mind, if it has youth and health and time enough, accepts the inevitable and gets itself ready for the next happening like a grimly dutiful American tourist who, on arriving at a new boondocks, looks around him, takes his bearings, and says, "Well, where do I get from here?"
― Thomas Wolfe, You Can't Go Domicile Once more

"This is homo: a writer of books, a putter-down of words, a painter of pictures, a maker of ten one thousand philosophies. He grows passionate over ideas, he hurls contemptuousness and mockery at some other's piece of work, he finds the i way, the truthful way, for himself, and calls all others false--nonetheless in the billion books upon the shelves in that location is not ane that can tell him how to draw a single fleeting breath in peace and comfort. He makes histories of the universe, he directs the destiny of the nations, just he does not know his own history, and he cannot direct his own destiny with dignity or wisdom for ten consecutive minutes."
― Thomas Wolfe, You Can't Become Abode Again

"This is homo, who, if he can remember x golden moments of joy and happiness out of all his years, ten moments unmarked by care, unseamed by aches or itches, has ability to lift himself with his expiring jiff and say: "I have lived upon this globe and known glory!"
― Thomas Wolfe, You Can't Go Home Once more

"Something has spoken to me in the night...and told me that I shall dice, I know not where. Saying: "[Decease is] to lose the earth yous know for greater knowing; to lose the life you take, for greater life; to leave the friends you loved, for greater loving; to notice a land more kind than dwelling house, more than big than earth."
― Thomas Wolfe, You Tin't Go Home Again

"Well," he said, quite seriously, "it's this way: you piece of work considering you're afraid non to. You work becuase you have to drive yourself to such a fury to begin. That role'south just plain hell! It's then hard to get started that once y'all practice you're agape of slipping back. You'd rather exercise annihilation than become through all that agony once more--and then yous continue going--y'all go along going faster all the time--you go along going till you lot couldn't stop even if you wanted to. You forget to eat, to shave, to put on a clean shirt when you have 1. You lot well-nigh forget to sleep, and when yous exercise try to you can't--because the avalanche has started, and information technology keeps going nighttime and twenty-four hour period. And people say: 'Why don't y'all stop sometime? Why don't you forget about it now and so? Why don't you take a few days off?' And you don't do it because y'all tin't--you can't stop yourself--and even if you could you'd be afraid to because at that place'd be all that hell to go through getting started up again. So people say you're a glutton for piece of work, but it isn't and so. It's laziness--just obviously, damned, simple laziness, that's all...Napoleon--and--and Balzac--and Thomas Edison--these fellows who never slumber more than than an hour or 2 at a time, and can keep going night and day--why that'southward not because they love to work! It's because they're really lazy--and afraid not to work because they know they're lazy! Why, hell yes!..I'll bet you anything yous like if you could really discover out what's going on in old Edison'southward mind, y'all'd find that he wished he could stay in bed every day until two o'clock in the afternoon! And then go up and scratch himself! So lie around in the dominicus for awhile! And hang around with the boys down at the village shop, talking most politics, and who'due south going to win the World Series next fall!"
― Thomas Wolfe, Yous Can't Become Dwelling house Over again

"The lives of men who have to live in our smashing cities are often tragically lone. In many more ways than one, these dwellers in the hive are modern counterparts of Tantalus. They are starving to expiry in the midst of abundance. The crystal stream flows near their lips but ever falls away when they try to potable of it. The vine, rich-weighted with its aureate fruit, bends downwardly, comes nearly, but springs dorsum when they reach out to touch it...In other times, when painters tried to pigment a scene of atrocious pathos, they chose the desert or a heath of arid rocks, and at that place would try to pic human in his great loneliness--the prophet in the desert, Elijah being fed by ravens on the rocks. But for a modernistic painter, the most desolate scene would have to be a street in almost any i of our great cities on a Sunday afternoon."
― Thomas Wolfe, You Can't Become Abode Over again

"At these repeated signs of decadence in a club which had once been the object of his green-eyed and his highest ambition, Webber's face had begun to take on a look of scorn...Yes, all these people looked at one another with untelling eyes. Their speech was casual, quick, and witty. Just they did non say the things they knew. And they knew everything. They had seen everything. They had accustomed everything. And they received every new intelligence now with a cynical and amused look in their untelling eyes. Naught shocked them anymore. Information technology was the way things were. It was what they had come to expect of life...He himself had not yet come to that, he did non desire to come to it."
― Thomas Wolfe, You Can't Go Home Again

"For he had learned this evening that beloved was not enough. There had to exist a higher devotion than all the devotions of this fond imprisonment. There had to be a larger world than this glittering fragment of a earth with all its wealth and privilege. Throughout his whole youth and early manhood, this very globe of dazzler, ease, and luxury, of power, glory, and security, had seemed the ultimate end of homo ambition, the furthermost limit to which the aspirations of any man could reach. But tonight, in a hundred separate moment of intense reality, it had revealed to him its very cadre. He had seen information technology naked, with its guards down. He had sensed how the hollow pyramid of a fake social construction had been erected and sustained upon a base of common mankind's blood and sweat and agony...Privilege and truth could non lie downwardly together. He thought of how a silver dollar, if held shut plenty to the middle, could blot out the dominicus itself. At that place were stronger, deeper tides and currents running in America than whatsoever which these glamorous lives tonight had ever plumbed or even dreamed of. Those were the depths he would like to audio."
― Thomas Wolfe, You Can't Get Home Over again

"I had non however learned that one cannot really be superior without humility and tolerance and human understanding. I did non yet know that in order to belong to a rare and higher brood ane must first develop the true power and talent of selfless immolation."
― Thomas Wolfe, You Tin't Go Home Again

"The highest intelligences of the time—the very subtlest of the chosen few—were bored past many things. They tilled the waste matter state, and erosion had grown fashionable. They were bored with love, and they were bored with hate. They were bored with men who worked, and with men who loafed. They were bored with people who created something, and with people who created goose egg. They were bored with marriage, and with single blessedness. They were bored with chastity, and they were bored with adultery. They were bored with going abroad, and they were bored with staying at home. They were bored with the great poets of the earth, whose great poems they had never read. They were bored with hunger in the streets, with the men who were killed, with the children who starved, and with the injustice, cruelty, and oppression all around them; and they were bored with justice, liberty, and man's right to live. They were bored with living, they were bored with dying, simply—they were not bored that year with Mr. Piggy Logan and his circus of wire dolls."
― Thomas Wolfe, You Tin't Become Dwelling Again

"(Baseball's a ho-hum game, really; that'southward the reason that it is so good. Nosotros do not dearest the game and then much equally we love the sprawl and drowse and shirt-sleeved apathy of it.)"
― Thomas Wolfe, You Can't Get Dwelling Again

"Telling the truth is a pretty hard thing. And in a young human's commencement attempt, with the distortions of his vanity, egotism, hot passion, and lacerated pride, it is nigh impossible. "Home to Our Mountains" was marred past all these faults and imperfections...[Webber] did know that information technology was not birthday a true book. Still, there was truth in it.
...
[from Randy] There were places where [your book] rubbed salt in. In saying this, I'm not like those others yous complain about: you know damn well I understand what you did and why you had to do information technology. Simply just the same, there were some things that you did not have to exercise -- and you'd have had a improve book if you hadn't done them."
― Thomas Wolfe, You Can't Go Home Once more

"The simply shame George Webber felt was that at one fourth dimension in his life, for however brusque a menstruation, he broke bread and saturday at the same tabular array with whatever man when the living warmth of friendship was not there; or that he ever traded upon the toil of his encephalon and the blood of his centre to get the body of a scented whore that might have been improve got in a brothel for some greasy coins. This was the only shame he felt. And this shame was so corking in him that he wondered if all his life thereafter would be long enough to launder out of his brain and blood the last pollution of its loathsome taint."
― Thomas Wolfe, Y'all Can't Go Home Over again

"This is Brooklyn--which means ten k streets and blocks like this one. Brooklyn, Admiral Drake, is the Standard Concentrated Chaos No. 1 of the Whole Universe. That is to say, it has no size, no shape, no heart, no joy, no hope, no aspiration, no center, no optics, no soul, no purpose, no direction, and no anything--but Standard Full-bodied Units everywhere--exploding in all directions for an unknown number of square miles like a completely triumphant Standard Full-bodied Absorb upon the Confront of the Earth."
― Thomas Wolfe, You Tin can't Go Habitation Again

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