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Yous Tin't Become Dwelling house Over again by Thomas Wolfe
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Y'all Can't Become Home Once again Quotes Showing one-30 of 48

"Make your mistakes, take your chances, look featherbrained, but proceed on going. Don't freeze upwards."
― Thomas Wolfe, You Tin can't Become Home Once again

"Child, child, have patience and belief, for life is many days, and each present hour will pass away. Son, son, you accept been mad and drunken, furious and wild, filled with hatred and despair, and all the night confusions of the soul - but and so have we. Y'all found the earth too great for your one life, y'all constitute your encephalon and sinew smaller than the hunger and desire that fed on them - only it has been this way with all men. You have stumbled on in darkness, you take been pulled in contrary directions, you lot have faltered, you have missed the way, merely, child, this is the relate of the world. And now, because you have known madness and despair, and considering you lot volition abound desperate again before you come to evening, we who accept stormed the ramparts of the furious earth and been hurled back, nosotros who have been maddened by the unknowable and biting mystery of love, nosotros who have hungered later on 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 touch u.s.a. - we call upon you to accept eye, for we can swear to you that these things pass."
― Thomas Wolfe, Yous Tin can't Become Dwelling house Again

"Something has spoken to me in the night...and told me that I shall dice, I know non where. Saying: "[Death is] to lose the earth you lot know for greater knowing; to lose the life you have, for greater life; to leave the friends y'all loved, for greater loving; to discover a state more kind than dwelling house, more than big than earth."
― Thomas Wolfe, Yous Can't Become Dwelling house Over again

"From p. xl of Signet Edition of Thomas Wolfe's _You Tin't Go Home Again_ (1940):

Some things volition never modify. Some things volition always be the same. Lean down your ear upon the globe and listen.

The voice of forest water in the night, a woman's laughter in the dark, the clean, hard rattle of raked gravel, the cricketing sew of midday in hot meadows, the fragile web of children'south voices in bright air--these things will never change.

The glitter of sunlight on roughened water, the glory of the stars, the innocence of forenoon, the olfactory property of the sea in harbors, the feathery mistiness and smoky buddings of immature boughs, and something in that location that comes and goes and never can be captured, the thorn of spring, the sharp and tongueless cry--these things will e'er be the aforementioned.

All things belonging to the globe volition never change--the leafage, the blade, the bloom, the wind that cries and sleeps and wakes again, the trees whose stiff arms clash and tremble in the night, 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 be the aforementioned, for they come up from the earth that never changes, they go back into the earth that lasts forever. Merely the earth endures, merely it endures forever.

The tarantula, the adder, and the asp will also never change. Hurting and death will always be the same. Just under the pavements trembling like a pulse, nether the buildings trembling like a cry, under the waste product of time, nether the hoof of the brute above the cleaved bones of cities, at that place volition be something growing like a blossom, something bursting from the earth again, forever deathless, true-blue, coming into life again similar April."
― Thomas Wolfe, You Can't Go Home Again

"It seems to me that in the orbit of our earth you are the North Pole, I the South--so much in balance, in understanding--and yet... the whole world lies between."
― Thomas Wolfe, You lot Can't Get Home Again

"He had learned some of the things that every homo must observe out for himself, and he had found out near them as one has to notice out--through error and through trial, through fantasy and illusion, through falsehood and his ain damn foolishness, through beingness mistaken and incorrect and an idiot and egotistical and aspiring and hopeful and believing and confused. Each thing he learned was then simple and obvious, once he grasped it, that he wondered why he had not always known it. And what had he learned? A philosopher would non call back it much, perhaps, and yet in a simple human mode it was a adept deal. Just by living, my making the thou footling daily choices that his whole complex of heredity, environment, and conscious thought, and deep emotion had driven him to brand, and by taking the consequences, he had learned that he could non consume his cake and have it, too. He had learned that in spite of his strange torso, so much off scale that it had often made him think himself a creature set up apart, he was still the son and brother of all men living. He had learned that he could not devour the world, that he must know and accept his limitations. He realized that much of his torment of the years by had been self-inflicted, and an inevitable function of growing up. And, most important of all for one who had taken and then long to grow upwardly, he thought he had learned not to be the slave of his emotions."
― Thomas Wolfe, Y'all Tin can't Go Habitation Again

"Perhaps this is our strange and haunting paradox hither in America -- that we are fixed and sure only when nosotros are in movement. At whatsoever rate, that is how it seemed to immature George Webber, who was never so assured of his purpose as when he was going somewhere on a railroad train. And he never had the sense of abode then much as when he felt that he was going there. It was only when he got there that his homelessness began."
― Thomas Wolfe, You Can't Go Home Once again

"Peace fell upon her spirit. Strong comfort and assurance bathed her whole beingness. Life was so solid and fantabulous, then skillful."
― Thomas Wolfe, You Can't Go Abode Again

"But why had he always felt so strongly the magnetic pull of dwelling house, why had he idea so much about it and remembered it with such blazing accurateness, if it did not matter, and if this picayune town, and the immortal hills effectually it, was not the only abode he had on world? He did not know. All that he knew was that the years flow by like water, and that one day men come domicile again."
― Thomas Wolfe, You Can't Become Home Again

"There came to him an epitome of man'due south 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 piffling and would be extinguished, and that only darkness was immense and everlasting. And he knew that he would die with defiance on his lips, and that the shout of his denial would ring with the concluding pulsing of his heart into the maw of all-engulfing night."
― Thomas Wolfe, You Can't Go Home Again

"[T]he essence of belief is dubiousness, the essence of reality is questioning. The essence of Time is Flow, not Fix. The essence of organized religion is the knowledge that all flows and that everything must change. The growing man is Man Alive, and his "philosophy" must grow, must flow, with him. . . . the homo also fixed today, unfixed tomorrow - and his body of beliefs is nothing simply a series of fixations."
― Thomas Wolfe, You Can't Go Home Once more

"Toil on, son, and exercise non lose middle or hope. Permit nothing you dismay. You are non utterly forsaken. I, besides, am here--here in the darkness waiting, here circumspect, hither approving of your labor and your dream."
― Thomas Wolfe, You Can't Go Home Over again

"All things belonging to the earth volition never change-the leaf, the bract, the blossom, the wind that cries and sleeps and wakes once again, the copse whose strong arms clash and tremble in the night, and the grit 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 more upon the earth-these things will ever be the aforementioned, for they come up upwardly from the earth that never changes, they become back into the earth that lasts forever. Only the earth endures, but it endures forever."
― Thomas Wolfe, You Can't Become Home Again

"But it is not just at these outward forms that we must wait to find the evidence of a nation's injure. We must look too at the heart of guilt that beats in each of us, for there the crusade lies. We must look, and with our own optics see, the primal 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 we look? Considering we must probe to the bottom of our collective wound. As men, as Americans, we can no longer blench away and lie. Are we not all warmed by the aforementioned sun, frozen past the same cold, shone on by the same lights of time and terror here in America? Yes, and if we do non look and see it, we shall all be damned together."
― Thomas Wolfe, You Tin can't Go Home Again

"The homo listen is a fearful instrument of adaptation, and in nothing is this more clearly shown than in its mysterious powers of resilience, self-protection, and self-healing. Unless an result completely shatters the order of one'due south life, the mind, if it has youth and health and fourth dimension enough, accepts the inevitable and gets itself set up for the side by side 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 hither?"
― Thomas Wolfe, You Can't Go Domicile Again

"This is homo: a writer of books, a putter-down 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 piece of work, he finds the one way, the true way, for himself, and calls all others simulated--yet in the billion books upon the shelves there is not one that tin 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, but he does not know his ain history, and he cannot direct his own destiny with dignity or wisdom for ten consecutive minutes."
― Thomas Wolfe, You lot Can't Go Dwelling Once more

"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 power to elevator himself with his expiring breath and say: "I take lived upon this earth and known glory!"
― Thomas Wolfe, Yous Can't Get Home Over again

"Something has spoken to me in the nighttime...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 y'all have, for greater life; to go out the friends you loved, for greater loving; to find a state more kind than home, more than large than world."
― Thomas Wolfe, You Can't Go Home Again

"Well," he said, quite seriously, "it'due south this style: yous work because you're afraid non to. You work becuase you lot accept to drive yourself to such a fury to brainstorm. That part's just plain hell! It's so hard to get started that once you lot practice you're afraid of slipping back. Y'all'd rather do annihilation than go through all that agony once more--so you keep going--yous keep going faster all the time--you proceed going till yous couldn't stop even if you wanted to. You forget to swallow, to shave, to put on a make clean shirt when you have 1. You almost forget to sleep, and when you do try to you lot can't--because the avalanche has started, and it keeps going nighttime and day. And people say: 'Why don't you terminate sometime? Why don't you forget almost information technology at present and and so? Why don't you take a few days off?' And y'all don't do information technology because you can't--you lot can't cease yourself--and even if you could you'd exist afraid to because there'd be all that hell to become through getting started upward again. Then people say you're a glutton for piece of work, but it isn't then. It'due south laziness--only 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 keep going night and twenty-four hours--why that's non considering they love to work! It'southward because they're really lazy--and afraid not to work because they know they're lazy! Why, hell yes!..I'll bet y'all anything you like if y'all could really find out what'due south going on in onetime Edison's mind, y'all'd find that he wished he could stay in bed every day until ii o'clock in the afternoon! And then go up and scratch himself! And then prevarication around in the sun for awhile! And hang around with the boys down at the village shop, talking about politics, and who'south going to win the World Series next fall!"
― Thomas Wolfe, You Tin't Go Home Again

"The lives of men who have to live in our dandy cities are oft tragically lonely. 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 near their lips but ever falls away when they try to drink of information technology. The vine, rich-weighted with its golden fruit, bends downward, comes most, but springs back when they achieve out to touch on it...In other times, when painters tried to pigment a scene of awful desolation, they chose the desert or a heath of barren rocks, and at that place would try to picture man in his great loneliness--the prophet in the desert, Elijah being fed past ravens on the rocks. But for a modern painter, the most desolate scene would accept to be a street in nigh any 1 of our great cities on a Sunday afternoon."
― Thomas Wolfe, Y'all Tin can't Go Habitation Once again

"At these repeated signs of decadence in a society which had once been the object of his envy and his highest ambition, Webber'south face up had begun to take on a look of contemptuousness...Yep, all these people looked at 1 another with untelling optics. Their speech was casual, quick, and witty. Merely 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 now with a contemptuous and amused look in their untelling eyes. Zero shocked them anymore. It was the way things were. Information technology was what they had come to wait of life...He himself had non yet come to that, he did not desire to come to it."
― Thomas Wolfe, You Can't Go Home Again

"For he had learned tonight that dearest was not plenty. There had to exist a higher devotion than all the devotions of this fond imprisonment. There had to be a larger earth than this glittering fragment of a globe with all its wealth and privilege. Throughout his whole youth and early on manhood, this very world of beauty, ease, and luxury, of power, glory, and security, had seemed the ultimate end of man appetite, the furthermost limit to which the aspirations of any homo could reach. Only tonight, in a hundred separate moment of intense reality, information technology had revealed to him its very core. He had seen it naked, with its guards down. He had sensed how the hollow pyramid of a simulated social structure had been erected and sustained upon a base of common mankind's blood and sweat and agony...Privilege and truth could not lie down together. He idea of how a silverish dollar, if held close enough to the middle, could blot out the lord's day itself. There were stronger, deeper tides and currents running in America than any which these glamorous lives tonight had e'er plumbed or even dreamed of. Those were the depths he would similar to sound."
― Thomas Wolfe, You lot Can't Get Habitation Over again

"I had not notwithstanding learned that one cannot really be superior without humility and tolerance and man understanding. I did not yet know that in order to belong to a rare and higher brood 1 must beginning develop the truthful power and talent of selfless immolation."
― Thomas Wolfe, You Can't Get Dwelling house Again

"The highest intelligences of the fourth dimension—the very subtlest of the chosen few—were bored by 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 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 world, whose cracking 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 man'southward correct to live. They were bored with living, they were bored with dying, merely—they were not bored that twelvemonth with Mr. Piggy Logan and his circus of wire dolls."
― Thomas Wolfe, You Can't Become Dwelling Over again

"(Baseball's a ho-hum game, really; that's the reason that it is so good. We do not beloved the game so much as we love the sprawl and drowse and shirt-sleeved apathy of it.)"
― Thomas Wolfe, You Can't Go Home Once again

"Telling the truth is a pretty hard thing. And in a immature human being's first try, with the distortions of his vanity, egotism, hot passion, and lacerated pride, information technology is about incommunicable. "Dwelling house to Our Mountains" was marred by all these faults and imperfections...[Webber] did know that information technology was not altogether a true volume. Still, at that place was truth in it.
...
[from Randy] There were places where [your book] rubbed salt in. In saying this, I'm not like those others you lot complain about: y'all know damn well I understand what you did and why you had to do it. But merely the same, there were some things that you did not accept to practice -- and you'd have had a meliorate book if you hadn't done them."
― Thomas Wolfe, You Can't Go Home Again

"The merely shame George Webber felt was that at once in his life, for however short a period, he broke bread and sabbatum at the same table with whatever homo when the living warmth of friendship was not at that place; or that he ever traded upon the toil of his brain and the claret of his heart to get the body 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 and so keen in him that he wondered if all his life thereafter would exist long enough to launder out of his encephalon and blood the terminal pollution of its loathsome taint."
― Thomas Wolfe, You Can't Get Home Over again

"This is Brooklyn--which means ten thousand 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 centre, no joy, no hope, no aspiration, no centre, no eyes, no soul, no purpose, no direction, and no anything--just Standard Full-bodied Units everywhere--exploding in all directions for an unknown number of square miles like a completely triumphant Standard Full-bodied Blot upon the Face of the Earth."
― Thomas Wolfe, Y'all Can't Become Dwelling house Again

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