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You Can't Get Home Over again past Thomas Wolfe
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Yous Can't Go Home Again Quotes Showing one-thirty of 48

"Brand your mistakes, accept your chances, look silly, merely keep on going. Don't freeze upward."
― Thomas Wolfe, You Tin can't Get Habitation Once more

"Kid, kid, have patience and belief, for life is many days, and each present hour will pass away. Son, son, you lot have been mad and drunken, furious and wild, filled with hatred and despair, and all the nighttime confusions of the soul - just so take we. You found the globe too great for your one life, you establish your encephalon and sinew smaller than the hunger and want that fed on them - simply it has been this fashion with all men. Yous take stumbled on in darkness, you have been pulled in reverse directions, you take faltered, yous have missed the way, but, child, this is the chronicle of the earth. And now, because y'all have known madness and despair, and because you will grow desperate again before you come up to evening, we who take stormed the ramparts of the furious earth and been hurled dorsum, nosotros who have been maddened by the unknowable and bitter mystery of honey, we who accept hungered afterward fame and savored all of life, the tumult, pain, and frenzy, and now sit quietly by our windows watching all that henceforth never more shall bear on usa - nosotros call upon yous to have heart, for we tin swear to you that these things laissez passer."
― Thomas Wolfe, You Tin can't Get Home Once again

"Something has spoken to me in the dark...and told me that I shall dice, I know not where. Saying: "[Death is] to lose the earth yous know for greater knowing; to lose the life you have, for greater life; to get out the friends you loved, for greater loving; to find a land more kind than domicile, more big than earth."
― Thomas Wolfe, You lot Tin't Go Home Over again

"From p. 40 of Signet Edition of Thomas Wolfe'southward _You Can't Go Dwelling Again_ (1940):

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

The vox of woods water in the dark, a adult female's laughter in the dark, the make clean, hard rattle of raked gravel, the cricketing sew of midday in hot meadows, the frail web of children'south voices in brilliant air--these things will never change.

The glitter of sunlight on roughened water, the celebrity of the stars, the innocence of forenoon, the odour of the ocean in harbors, the feathery blur and smoky buddings of young boughs, and something there that comes and goes and never tin exist captured, the thorn of bound, the sharp and tongueless cry--these things will always be the same.

All things belonging to the earth will never modify--the leaf, the blade, the flower, the wind that cries and sleeps and wakes again, the copse whose strong artillery clash and tremble in the nighttime, 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 once again upon the globe--these things will always exist the same, for they come upwardly from the earth that never changes, they go back into the earth that lasts forever. Simply the earth endures, but information technology endures forever.

The tarantula, the adder, and the asp will also never change. Pain and death will always be the aforementioned. But under the pavements trembling like a pulse, under the buildings trembling similar a weep, nether the waste material of fourth dimension, under the hoof of the beast above the cleaved basic of cities, there will exist something growing similar a bloom, something bursting from the earth again, forever deathless, true-blue, coming into life again like Apr."
― Thomas Wolfe, You Tin can't Go Habitation Again

"Information technology seems to me that in the orbit of our world you lot are the North Pole, I the Southward--so much in balance, in agreement--and yet... the whole world lies between."
― Thomas Wolfe, You Tin can't Become Home Again

"He had learned some of the things that every man must find out for himself, and he had establish out about them as 1 has to observe out--through error and through trial, through fantasy and illusion, through falsehood and his ain damn foolishness, through existence mistaken and wrong and an idiot and egotistical and aspiring and hopeful and believing and dislocated. Each thing he learned was so elementary and obvious, once he grasped it, that he wondered why he had not always known information technology. And what had he learned? A philosopher would not recollect it much, maybe, and still in a simple human mode it was a good deal. Just by living, my making the thousand little daily choices that his whole circuitous of heredity, surround, and conscious idea, 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, too. He had learned that in spite of his strange body, so much off scale that it had often made him think himself a animate being fix autonomously, 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 have his limitations. He realized that much of his torment of the years by had been self-inflicted, and an inevitable part of growing up. And, nigh of import of all for one who had taken so long to grow up, he idea he had learned non to be the slave of his emotions."
― Thomas Wolfe, You Can't Go Home Again

"Perhaps this is our strange and haunting paradox here in America -- that we are fixed and certain just when we are in movement. At any charge per unit, that is how information technology seemed to young George Webber, who was never so bodacious of his purpose as when he was going somewhere on a train. And he never had the sense of home and so much every bit when he felt that he was going there. Information technology was just when he got there that his homelessness began."
― Thomas Wolfe, You Can't Go Home Once again

"Peace fell upon her spirit. Stiff condolement and assurance bathed her whole existence. Life was and so solid and splendid, and and then good."
― Thomas Wolfe, Y'all Can't Get Dwelling Once again

"But why had he always felt so strongly the magnetic pull of abode, why had he thought so much about it and remembered information technology with such blazing accurateness, if it did not affair, and if this lilliputian town, and the immortal hills around information technology, was not the but home he had on earth? He did not know. All that he knew was that the years flow by like water, and that ane day men come up home again."
― Thomas Wolfe, You Can't Go Habitation Once more

"In that location came to him an image of man's whole life upon the earth. It seemed to him that all human being'southward life was like a tiny spurt of flame that blazed out briefly in an illimitable and terrifying darkness, and that all human's grandeur, tragic nobility, his heroic glory, came from the brevity and smallness of this flame. He knew his life was fiddling and would exist extinguished, and that just 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 terminal pulsing of his heart into the maw of all-engulfing dark."
― Thomas Wolfe, You Can't Go Abode Again

"[T]he essence of belief is doubt, the essence of reality is questioning. The essence of Fourth dimension is Flow, non Ready. The essence of faith is the knowledge that all flows and that everything must change. The growing man is Human being Alive, and his "philosophy" must grow, must period, with him. . . . the man too stock-still today, unfixed tomorrow - and his body of beliefs is nothing simply a series of fixations."
― Thomas Wolfe, You Can't Get Home Again

"Toil on, son, and practice not lose heart or hope. Let nothing you dismay. You are not utterly forsaken. I, too, am hither--here in the darkness waiting, here attentive, hither approval of your labor and your dream."
― Thomas Wolfe, Y'all Tin't Go Home Once again

"All things belonging to the earth will never change-the leaf, the blade, the flower, the air current that cries and sleeps and wakes again, 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 modify and come again upon the earth-these things will e'er be the aforementioned, for they come up from the globe that never changes, they go back into the globe that lasts forever. Only the earth endures, only it endures forever."
― Thomas Wolfe, Yous Can't Go Home Again

"But it is not but at these outward forms that we must await to observe the show of a nation'southward hurt. Nosotros must await also at the heart of guilt that beats in each of us, for in that location the crusade lies. Nosotros must look, and with our ain eyes come across, the central core of defeat and shame and failure which we have wrought in the lives of even the least of these, our brothers. And why must nosotros look? Considering nosotros must probe to the bottom of our collective wound. Every bit men, as Americans, we can no longer cringe away and prevarication. Are we not all warmed by the aforementioned sun, frozen past the aforementioned cold, shone on past the same lights of time and terror hither in America? Yes, and if we exercise not await and see it, nosotros shall all exist damned together."
― Thomas Wolfe, You Can't Go Abode Again

"The human being heed is a fearful instrument of adaptation, and in nothing is this more than clearly shown than in its mysterious powers of resilience, self-protection, and self-healing. Unless an event completely shatters the lodge of one's life, the heed, if it has youth and health and time enough, accepts the inevitable and gets itself ready for the adjacent happening like a grimly dutiful American tourist who, on arriving at a new town, looks effectually him, takes his bearings, and says, "Well, where do I go from here?"
― Thomas Wolfe, You Tin can't Become Home Again

"This is human being: a writer of books, a putter-downwards of words, a painter of pictures, a maker of ten thousand philosophies. He grows passionate over ideas, he hurls scorn and mockery at another's work, he finds the ane style, the true way, for himself, and calls all others false--still in the billion books upon the shelves there is non 1 that tin can tell him how to describe a single fleeting breath in peace and condolement. He makes histories of the universe, he directs the destiny of the nations, merely he does not know his own history, and he cannot direct his own destiny with dignity or wisdom for ten consecutive minutes."
― Thomas Wolfe, Yous Can't Go Abode Again

"This is homo, who, if he can recollect ten golden moments of joy and happiness out of all his years, x moments unmarked by intendance, unseamed by aches or itches, has power to lift himself with his expiring breath and say: "I have lived upon this earth and known celebrity!"
― Thomas Wolfe, You Tin can't Go Abode Once again

"Something has spoken to me in the dark...and told me that I shall die, I know not where. Saying: "[Death is] to lose the world you know for greater knowing; to lose the life you take, for greater life; to go out the friends you loved, for greater loving; to find a land more kind than home, more big than earth."
― Thomas Wolfe, You lot Can't Get Habitation Again

"Well," he said, quite seriously, "it's this style: you lot piece of work because you're afraid not to. You work becuase y'all accept to bulldoze yourself to such a fury to brainstorm. That part'due south just plain hell! It'due south and so hard to become started that once you do you're afraid of slipping back. You lot'd rather do anything than go through all that agony again--so yous continue going--you keep going faster all the time--yous keep going till you couldn't terminate even if you lot wanted to. You forget to eat, to shave, to put on a make clean shirt when you take one. You almost forget to sleep, and when you exercise endeavor to you lot can't--because the barrage has started, and information technology keeps going night and day. And people say: 'Why don't yous stop sometime? Why don't yous forget almost information technology now and then? Why don't you lot take a few days off?' And you don't do it because you lot can't--you can't terminate yourself--and fifty-fifty if you could you'd exist agape to because there'd be all that hell to go through getting started up again. So people say y'all're a glutton for piece of work, but information technology isn't and so. It'south laziness--merely plain, damned, simple laziness, that's all...Napoleon--and--and Balzac--and Thomas Edison--these fellows who never sleep more than than an hour or two at a time, and can go along going dark and day--why that'south not because they love to work! It's because they're actually lazy--and afraid non to work because they know they're lazy! Why, hell yes!..I'll bet you anything you similar if you lot could really detect out what'south going on in old Edison'due south listen, you'd find that he wished he could stay in bed every day until two o'clock in the afternoon! And then go upward and scratch himself! And then prevarication effectually in the lord's day for awhile! And hang around with the boys downwards at the village store, talking about politics, and who's going to win the Earth Serial side by side fall!"
― Thomas Wolfe, You Can't Go Dwelling Again

"The lives of men who have to live in our great cities are ofttimes tragically solitary. In many more ways than one, these dwellers in the hive are modern counterparts of Tantalus. They are starving to death in the midst of abundance. The crystal stream flows virtually their lips but e'er falls abroad when they try to drinkable of it. The vine, rich-weighted with its golden fruit, bends down, comes near, but springs back when they achieve out to touch it...In other times, when painters tried to paint a scene of awful desolation, they chose the desert or a heath of barren rocks, and there would try to picture human in his bully loneliness--the prophet in the desert, Elijah beingness fed by ravens on the rocks. But for a modern painter, the most desolate scene would accept to exist a street in nigh whatever ane of our great cities on a Dominicus afternoon."
― Thomas Wolfe, Yous Can't Go Home Again

"At these repeated signs of decadence in a guild which had once been the object of his envy and his highest appetite, Webber'southward confront had begun to take on a expect of scorn...Yep, all these people looked at 1 some other with untelling eyes. Their spoken language was casual, quick, and witty. Only they did not 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 tickled look in their untelling eyes. Nothing shocked them anymore. It was the way things were. It was what they had come to await of life...He himself had not yet come to that, he did not want to come up to it."
― Thomas Wolfe, You Can't Go Habitation Again

"For he had learned tonight that love was not plenty. There had to be a higher devotion than all the devotions of this fond imprisonment. There had to be a larger globe than this glittering fragment of a globe with all its wealth and privilege. Throughout his whole youth and early manhood, this very globe of dazzler, ease, and luxury, of ability, glory, and security, had seemed the ultimate stop of human ambition, the furthermost limit to which the aspirations of whatsoever man could reach. But tonight, in a hundred split moment of intense reality, it had revealed to him its very core. He had seen it naked, with its guards downwardly. He had sensed how the hollow pyramid of a false social structure had been erected and sustained upon a base of mutual flesh's claret and sweat and agony...Privilege and truth could not lie down together. He thought of how a silver dollar, if held close enough to the eye, could absorb out the dominicus itself. At that place were stronger, deeper tides and currents running in America than any which these glamorous lives tonight had ever plumbed or even dreamed of. Those were the depths he would like to sound."
― Thomas Wolfe, Y'all Can't Go Home Again

"I had non nonetheless learned that ane cannot really be superior without humility and tolerance and man understanding. I did non yet know that in order to vest to a rare and higher breed i must outset develop the true power and talent of selfless immolation."
― Thomas Wolfe, Y'all Tin can't Get Domicile Once again

"The highest intelligences of the time—the very subtlest of the chosen few—were bored by many things. They tilled the waste material land, 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 cipher. They were bored with marriage, and with single blessedness. They were bored with guiltlessness, and they were bored with infidelity. They were bored with going abroad, and they were bored with staying at habitation. They were bored with the great poets of the world, whose peachy 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 effectually them; and they were bored with justice, freedom, and man's correct to alive. They were bored with living, they were bored with dying, but—they were not bored that year with Mr. Piggy Logan and his circus of wire dolls."
― Thomas Wolfe, You Tin't Go Home Again

"(Baseball'south a dull game, really; that'southward the reason that it is so proficient. We exercise non love the game and so much equally we love the sprawl and drowse and shirt-sleeved apathy of it.)"
― Thomas Wolfe, Yous Can't Go Home Again

"Telling the truth is a pretty hard affair. And in a immature man's kickoff attempt, with the distortions of his vanity, egotism, hot passion, and lacerated pride, it is almost incommunicable. "Home to Our Mountains" was marred by all these faults and imperfections...[Webber] did know that information technology was not altogether a truthful book. Even so, there was truth in information technology.
...
[from Randy] There were places where [your book] rubbed salt in. In saying this, I'm not like those others yous mutter about: you know damn well I sympathize what you lot did and why you had to do information technology. But just the same, there were some things that you did not have to practise -- and you lot'd have had a improve book if yous hadn't done them."
― Thomas Wolfe, You Can't Go Habitation Again

"The just shame George Webber felt was that at ane time in his life, for all the same short a period, he broke bread and sat at the same table with any homo when the living warmth of friendship was not there; or that he ever traded upon the toil of his brain and the blood of his heart to get the torso of a scented whore that might have been better got in a brothel for some greasy coins. This was the only shame he felt. And this shame was so great in him that he wondered if all his life thereafter would be long plenty to wash out of his brain and claret the last pollution of its loathsome taint."
― Thomas Wolfe, You Can't Go Domicile Once again

"This is Brooklyn--which means ten thousand streets and blocks similar this i. 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 centre, no joy, no promise, no aspiration, no center, no eyes, no soul, no purpose, no direction, and no anything--just Standard Concentrated Units everywhere--exploding in all directions for an unknown number of square miles like a completely triumphant Standard Concentrated Blot upon the Face of the Earth."
― Thomas Wolfe, You Can't Go Home Again

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