Thomas Wolf Can You Ever Go Home Again

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Y'all Tin can't Go Home Again by Thomas Wolfe
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You Tin can't Go Home Again Quotes Showing 1-30 of 48

"Make your mistakes, have your chances, wait silly, but keep on going. Don't freeze up."
― Thomas Wolfe, Yous Can't Become Home Again

"Child, kid, have patience and belief, for life is many days, and each present hour will laissez passer away. Son, son, y'all have been mad and drunken, furious and wild, filled with hatred and despair, and all the dark confusions of the soul - merely and so have we. You constitute the earth besides great for your one life, you found your brain and sinew smaller than the hunger and desire that fed on them - but it has been this way with all men. Yous have stumbled on in darkness, you lot accept been pulled in contrary directions, y'all take faltered, you have missed the mode, but, child, this is the chronicle of the earth. And now, because y'all have known madness and despair, and because you will grow drastic over again before you come to evening, we who have stormed the ramparts of the furious earth and been hurled back, we who have been maddened past the unknowable and bitter mystery of dearest, we who take hungered subsequently fame and savored all of life, the tumult, pain, and frenzy, and at present sit quietly by our windows watching all that henceforth never more shall bear upon united states of america - we call upon you to take middle, for we can swear to you that these things laissez passer."
― Thomas Wolfe, You Can't Go Dwelling Again

"Something has spoken to me in the night...and told me that I shall dice, I know not where. Maxim: "[Death is] to lose the earth yous know for greater knowing; to lose the life y'all have, for greater life; to leave the friends you lot loved, for greater loving; to find a land more than kind than home, more large than earth."
― Thomas Wolfe, You Can't Go Abode Again

"From p. xl of Signet Edition of Thomas Wolfe'due south _You Can't Get Abode Again_ (1940):

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

The voice of wood h2o in the dark, a woman's laughter in the dark, the clean, hard rattle of raked gravel, the cricketing stitch of midday in hot meadows, the fragile web of children's voices in vivid air--these things volition never change.

The glitter of sunlight on roughened water, the glory of the stars, the innocence of forenoon, the smell of the sea in harbors, the feathery blur and smoky buddings of immature boughs, and something there that comes and goes and never can be captured, the thorn of jump, the abrupt and tongueless weep--these things will always be the same.

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 strong arms clash and tremble in the nighttime, and the grit of lovers long since buried in the earth--all things proceeding from the globe to seasons, all things that lapse and change and come again upon the globe--these things will always be the same, for they come from the earth that never changes, they become back into the earth that lasts forever. Just the earth endures, but it endures forever.

The tarantula, the adder, and the asp volition also never change. Pain and death will e'er be the aforementioned. Only under the pavements trembling similar a pulse, under the buildings trembling similar a weep, under the waste of time, under the hoof of the beast higher up the broken bones of cities, there will exist something growing like a flower, something bursting from the earth once again, forever deathless, faithful, coming into life again similar April."
― Thomas Wolfe, You Can't Get Domicile Again

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

"He had learned some of the things that every man must find out for himself, and he had plant out about them as ane has to find 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 affair he learned was and then simple 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 remember it much, perhaps, and however in a simple man way it was a skillful deal. Simply by living, my making the thousand fiddling daily choices that his whole complex of heredity, environment, and conscious thought, and deep emotion had driven him to make, and past taking the consequences, he had learned that he could not consume his block and have it, too. He had learned that in spite of his strange torso, so much off scale that it had often made him remember himself a creature set apart, he was withal the son and blood brother of all men living. He had learned that he could not devour the world, that he must know and have his limitations. He realized that much of his torment of the years past had been self-inflicted, and an inevitable part of growing upwards. And, most important of all for ane who had taken and then long to grow up, he thought he had learned not to be the slave of his emotions."
― Thomas Wolfe, You Can't Become Home Again

"Perchance this is our strange and haunting paradox here in America -- that we are fixed and certain merely 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 as when he was going somewhere on a train. And he never had the sense of home and so much as when he felt that he was going in that location. It was but when he got there that his homelessness began."
― Thomas Wolfe, Y'all Can't Go Abode Once again

"Peace brutal upon her spirit. Stiff comfort and balls bathed her whole beingness. Life was and then solid and splendid, and so proficient."
― Thomas Wolfe, You Can't Go Dwelling Again

"Just why had he always felt and then strongly the magnetic pull of home, why had he thought and then much nigh it and remembered it with such blazing accuracy, if information technology did not matter, and if this fiddling boondocks, and the immortal hills around it, was not the only dwelling he had on globe? He did not know. All that he knew was that the years flow by similar h2o, and that one solar day men come up abode again."
― Thomas Wolfe, You Can't Get Home Again

"There came to him an image of man's whole life upon the globe. It 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 little and would be 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 denial would ring with the last pulsing of his centre into the maw of all-engulfing nighttime."
― Thomas Wolfe, You lot Tin can't Get Home Once again

"[T]he essence of belief is dubiety, the essence of reality is questioning. The essence of Time is Menstruum, not Fix. The essence of faith is the cognition that all flows and that everything must modify. The growing man is Man Alive, and his "philosophy" must grow, must flow, with him. . . . the human being too stock-still today, unfixed tomorrow - and his body of behavior is zero but a series of fixations."
― Thomas Wolfe, You Can't Go Domicile Over again

"Toil on, son, and do non lose heart or hope. Permit nothing you dismay. You are not utterly forsaken. I, too, am here--here in the darkness waiting, hither attentive, here approving of your labor and your dream."
― Thomas Wolfe, You Can't Go Home Again

"All things belonging to the earth will never change-the leaf, the blade, the flower, the wind that cries and sleeps and wakes again, the trees whose strong artillery clash and tremble in the night, and the dust of lovers long since buried in the world-all things proceeding from the earth to seasons, all things that lapse and change and come again upon the world-these things will ever exist the aforementioned, for they come upwards from the earth that never changes, they become back into the world that lasts forever. But the world endures, simply information technology endures forever."
― Thomas Wolfe, You Can't Get Home Again

"But it is not only at these outward forms that we must look to discover the evidence of a nation's hurt. Nosotros must look equally well at the heart of guilt that beats in each of u.s.a., for there the cause lies. We must expect, and with our ain eyes see, the central cadre 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 wait? Considering we must probe to the bottom of our commonage wound. Every bit men, as Americans, nosotros can no longer blench away and prevarication. Are we non all warmed past the aforementioned sunday, frozen by the same cold, shone on by the same lights of time and terror hither in America? Aye, and if we do non await and come across it, we shall all be damned together."
― Thomas Wolfe, You lot Can't Get Home Again

"The human listen is a fearful instrument of adaptation, and in zero 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's life, the mind, if it has youth and wellness and fourth dimension enough, accepts the inevitable and gets itself ready for the side by side 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 become from here?"
― Thomas Wolfe, You Can't Get Home Again

"This is man: a writer of books, a putter-down of words, a painter of pictures, a maker of ten g philosophies. He grows passionate over ideas, he hurls scorn and mockery at another'southward piece of work, he finds the one way, the truthful mode, for himself, and calls all others false--all the same in the billion books upon the shelves there is not one that can tell him how to draw a single fleeting breath in peace and condolement. He makes histories of the universe, he directs the destiny of the nations, but he does non know his own history, and he cannot straight his ain destiny with dignity or wisdom for x sequent minutes."
― Thomas Wolfe, You Tin't Go Abode Once again

"This is man, 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 breath and say: "I have lived upon this earth and known celebrity!"
― Thomas Wolfe, You Can't Go Domicile Again

"Something has spoken to me in the night...and told me that I shall die, I know not where. Maxim: "[Expiry is] to lose the globe yous know for greater knowing; to lose the life y'all have, for greater life; to leave the friends you loved, for greater loving; to observe a state more kind than home, more large than earth."
― Thomas Wolfe, You Can't Go Domicile Again

"Well," he said, quite seriously, "it's this way: yous work because you're agape not to. You work becuase you lot have to drive yourself to such a fury to begin. That part'due south just plain hell! It'due south so hard to get started that once y'all do you're afraid of slipping dorsum. Yous'd rather exercise anything than get through all that desperation once again--and so you keep going--yous go on going faster all the time--you lot go along going till you couldn't terminate fifty-fifty if you wanted to. You forget to eat, to shave, to put on a clean shirt when yous have one. You almost forget to sleep, and when you exercise try to you lot can't--because the avalanche has started, and information technology keeps going night and day. And people say: 'Why don't y'all stop sometime? Why don't yous forget about it at present and then? Why don't you take a few days off?' And you don't exercise information technology because you tin can't--you can't stop yourself--and even if you could you'd be agape to because there'd be all that hell to go through getting started up once more. Then people say you lot're a glutton for work, but information technology isn't so. It's laziness--merely plain, damned, simple laziness, that's all...Napoleon--and--and Balzac--and Thomas Edison--these fellows who never sleep more than an 60 minutes or two at a time, and can keep going night and day--why that's non because they honey to work! It'southward because they're really lazy--and afraid non to work considering they know they're lazy! Why, hell yes!..I'll bet you anything you lot like if you could really find out what's going on in former Edison's mind, yous'd find that he wished he could stay in bed every twenty-four hours until 2 o'clock in the afternoon! And then get up and scratch himself! And and so lie around in the sun for awhile! And hang around with the boys downwards at the village shop, talking about politics, and who's going to win the Globe Serial adjacent fall!"
― Thomas Wolfe, You Tin can't Go Abode Again

"The lives of men who have to alive in our great cities are frequently tragically lonely. In many more means than 1, these dwellers in the hive are modern counterparts of Tantalus. They are starving to death in the midst of affluence. The crystal stream flows about their lips but always falls abroad when they endeavour to potable of it. The vine, rich-weighted with its golden fruit, bends downwardly, comes about, simply springs dorsum when they reach out to impact information technology...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 effort to movie human in his not bad loneliness--the prophet in the desert, Elijah being fed by ravens on the rocks. But for a modernistic painter, the virtually desolate scene would accept to be a street in near any one of our great cities on a Dominicus afternoon."
― Thomas Wolfe, Y'all Tin't Go Dwelling house Again

"At these repeated signs of decadence in a society which had one time been the object of his envy and his highest ambition, Webber's face had begun to take on a look of scorn...Yes, all these people looked at ane another with untelling eyes. Their spoken language was casual, quick, and witty. But they did not say the things they knew. And they knew everything. They had seen everything. They had accepted everything. And they received every new intelligence at present with a cynical and amused expect in their untelling eyes. Nothing shocked them anymore. It was the way things were. It was what they had come to look of life...He himself had not withal come to that, he did not want to come to it."
― Thomas Wolfe, Y'all Can't Go Dwelling Again

"For he had learned this evening that dearest was not plenty. At that place had to be a higher devotion than all the devotions of this fond imprisonment. There had to exist 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 earth of dazzler, ease, and luxury, of power, glory, and security, had seemed the ultimate end of human ambition, the far-off limit to which the aspirations of any man could reach. But tonight, in a hundred split up moment of intense reality, information technology had revealed to him its very cadre. He had seen it naked, with its guards down. He had sensed how the hollow pyramid of a false social structure had been erected and sustained upon a base of common flesh's blood and sweat and agony...Privilege and truth could not lie downwards together. He idea of how a silver dollar, if held close enough to the eye, could absorb out the sun itself. At that place were stronger, deeper tides and currents running in America than any which these glamorous lives tonight had ever plumbed or fifty-fifty dreamed of. Those were the depths he would like to sound."
― Thomas Wolfe, You lot Can't Become Home Over again

"I had not yet learned that ane cannot really be superior without humility and tolerance and human agreement. I did non yet know that in society to vest to a rare and college brood one must first develop the true power and talent of selfless immolation."
― Thomas Wolfe, Yous Can't Become Domicile Again

"The highest intelligences of the time—the very subtlest of the chosen few—were bored past many things. They tilled the waste 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 nothing. They were bored with union, and with single blessedness. They were bored with chastity, and they were bored with infidelity. They were bored with going abroad, and they were bored with staying at home. They were bored with the nifty poets of the world, whose dandy 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, freedom, and human being'south right to alive. They were bored with living, they were bored with dying, but—they were not bored that twelvemonth with Mr. Piggy Logan and his circus of wire dolls."
― Thomas Wolfe, Yous Can't Go Habitation Again

"(Baseball'southward a dull game, really; that's the reason that information technology is so practiced. Nosotros do not love the game so much as we beloved the sprawl and drowse and shirt-sleeved aloofness of it.)"
― Thomas Wolfe, You Can't Become Home Again

"Telling the truth is a pretty hard matter. And in a beau's first attempt, with the distortions of his vanity, egotism, hot passion, and lacerated pride, it is almost impossible. "Home to Our Mountains" was marred by all these faults and imperfections...[Webber] did know that it was not altogether a true book. Notwithstanding, at that place was truth in information technology.
...
[from Randy] There were places where [your book] rubbed table salt in. In maxim this, I'm non like those others you complain about: you know damn well I understand what you did and why you had to practice information technology. But just the same, there were some things that you did non accept to do -- and you'd have had a better volume if yous hadn't done them."
― Thomas Wolfe, You Can't Go Home Again

"The but shame George Webber felt was that at in one case in his life, for even so short a period, he broke bread and sat at the same tabular array with any man 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 become the trunk of a scented whore that might have been ameliorate got in a brothel for some greasy coins. This was the only shame he felt. And this shame was then keen in him that he wondered if all his life thereafter would be long enough to wash out of his brain and blood the concluding pollution of its loathsome taint."
― Thomas Wolfe, You Can't Go Home Again

"This is Brooklyn--which ways ten grand streets and blocks similar this 1. Brooklyn, Admiral Drake, is the Standard Concentrated Chaos No. one of the Whole Universe. That is to say, information technology has no size, no shape, no centre, no joy, no hope, no aspiration, no middle, no optics, no soul, no purpose, no direction, and no anything--merely 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 Globe."
― Thomas Wolfe, Y'all Tin can't Become Habitation Over again

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