In Case You Every Want to Go Home Again

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You Can't Go Abode Again by Thomas Wolfe
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You Can't Go Dwelling house Again Quotes Showing one-30 of 48

"Make your mistakes, take your chances, look dizzy, simply keep on going. Don't freeze up."
― Thomas Wolfe, You lot Tin't Go Home Again

"Kid, child, have patience and conventionalities, for life is many days, and each present hr volition pass 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 - just and then take we. You found the world too great for your one life, y'all constitute your encephalon and sinew smaller than the hunger and desire that fed on them - only information technology has been this mode with all men. You take stumbled on in darkness, you lot accept been pulled in opposite directions, you have faltered, y'all have missed the mode, but, child, this is the chronicle of the globe. And now, considering you have known madness and despair, and because you will grow desperate again before you come to evening, we who have stormed the ramparts of the furious globe and been hurled back, we who have been maddened by the unknowable and bitter mystery of beloved, we who accept hungered after 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 than shall touch on us - we phone call upon you to accept centre, for we can swear to you that these things pass."
― Thomas Wolfe, You lot Tin can't Get Home Once more

"Something has spoken to me in the nighttime...and told me that I shall dice, I know not where. Saying: "[Death is] to lose the globe you know for greater knowing; to lose the life you lot have, for greater life; to leave the friends you loved, for greater loving; to find a land more kind than home, more large than earth."
― Thomas Wolfe, Yous Tin can't Go Domicile Again

"From p. 40 of Signet Edition of Thomas Wolfe's _You Can't Get Abode Again_ (1940):

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

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

The glitter of sunlight on roughened h2o, the celebrity of the stars, the innocence of morning, the odor of the sea in harbors, the feathery blur and smoky buddings of young boughs, and something in that location that comes and goes and never can be captured, the thorn of leap, the sharp and tongueless weep--these things will e'er be the same.

All things belonging to the earth will never change--the foliage, the blade, the blossom, 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 up again upon the world--these things will always be the same, for they come up upward from the earth that never changes, they go back into the world that lasts forever. Only the earth endures, but it endures forever.

The tarantula, the adder, and the asp will likewise never modify. Pain and death will ever exist the aforementioned. But nether the pavements trembling similar a pulse, under the buildings trembling similar a cry, nether the waste of time, nether the hoof of the beast above the broken bones of cities, in that location volition be something growing like a flower, something bursting from the earth again, forever deathless, faithful, coming into life once more like April."
― Thomas Wolfe, Yous Tin't Get Home Again

"It seems to me that in the orbit of our world y'all are the North Pole, I the South--then much in residual, in understanding--and yet... the whole earth lies betwixt."
― Thomas Wolfe, You Can't Go Home Once more

"He had learned some of the things that every human being must discover out for himself, and he had institute out about them as one has to find out--through fault and through trial, through fantasy and illusion, through falsehood and his own damn foolishness, through existence mistaken and wrong and an idiot and egotistical and aspiring and hopeful and assertive and confused. Each thing he learned was so simple and obvious, in one case he grasped information technology, that he wondered why he had not ever known it. And what had he learned? A philosopher would non call up it much, perhaps, and yet in a elementary human way information technology was a good deal. But by living, my making the thousand trivial daily choices that his whole complex of heredity, environs, and witting thought, and deep emotion had driven him to make, and past taking the consequences, he had learned that he could non eat his cake and accept it, besides. He had learned that in spite of his strange trunk, then much off scale that it had frequently made him retrieve himself a creature gear up apart, he was all the same the son and brother of all men living. He had learned that he could non 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 function 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 Become Dwelling house Again

"Perhaps this is our strange and haunting paradox here in America -- that we are fixed and certain merely when we are in motility. At whatsoever charge per unit, 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 so much equally when he felt that he was going there. It was only when he got at that place that his homelessness began."
― Thomas Wolfe, Yous Tin can't Go Habitation Once more

"Peace fell upon her spirit. Strong comfort and balls bathed her whole being. Life was so solid and fantabulous, and so skilful."
― Thomas Wolfe, Yous Tin't Go Habitation Again

"Simply why had he e'er felt and so strongly the magnetic pull of home, why had he thought so much about it and remembered it with such blazing accurateness, if it did not matter, and if this little town, and the immortal hills around it, was non the only abode he had on earth? He did not know. All that he knew was that the years menstruation past like h2o, and that ane twenty-four hours men come dwelling house again."
― Thomas Wolfe, You Can't Go Home Again

"There came to him an paradigm of man's whole life upon the world. Information technology seemed to him that all human being's life was like a tiny spurt of flame that blazed out briefly in an illimitable and terrifying darkness, and that all man'due south 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 merely 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 eye into the maw of all-engulfing night."
― Thomas Wolfe, You Can't Go Home Again

"[T]he essence of belief is uncertainty, the essence of reality is questioning. The essence of Fourth dimension is Flow, non Fix. The essence of faith is the noesis that all flows and that everything must change. The growing man is Homo Live, and his "philosophy" must grow, must flow, with him. . . . the man too fixed today, unfixed tomorrow - and his body of beliefs is nothing just a series of fixations."
― Thomas Wolfe, You Can't Get Home Again

"Toil on, son, and do not lose heart or hope. Let nil y'all dismay. You are not utterly forsaken. I, too, am here--here in the darkness waiting, here attentive, here approving of your labor and your dream."
― Thomas Wolfe, You Can't Go Home Again

"All things belonging to the globe will never change-the leaf, the bract, the blossom, the wind that cries and sleeps and wakes again, the trees whose stiff artillery 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 e'er exist the same, for they come up up from the globe that never changes, they become back into the world that lasts forever. But the earth endures, but information technology endures forever."
― Thomas Wolfe, You Tin't Go Dwelling house Again

"But it is not but at these outward forms that nosotros must look to detect the evidence of a nation's 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 primal core of defeat and shame and failure which we have wrought in the lives of fifty-fifty the least of these, our brothers. And why must we expect? Considering we must probe to the bottom of our collective wound. As men, as Americans, we can no longer blench abroad and lie. Are we non all warmed past the aforementioned dominicus, frozen by the same cold, shone on by the same lights of time and terror hither in America? Yes, and if nosotros do not await and come across it, nosotros shall all be damned together."
― Thomas Wolfe, You Can't Become Home Once more

"The human heed is a fearful instrument of accommodation, and in nix is this more than clearly shown than in its mysterious powers of resilience, self-protection, and self-healing. Unless an effect completely shatters the club of one's life, the heed, if it has youth and health and time enough, accepts the inevitable and gets itself fix for the next happening like a grimly dutiful American tourist who, on arriving at a new town, looks around him, takes his bearings, and says, "Well, where do I get from hither?"
― Thomas Wolfe, You Tin can't Become Home Again

"This is man: a writer of books, a putter-downwardly of words, a painter of pictures, a maker of 10 thousand philosophies. He grows passionate over ideas, he hurls scorn and mockery at some other's work, he finds the one manner, the true way, for himself, and calls all others false--yet in the billion books upon the shelves at that place is not one that 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, simply he does not know his own history, and he cannot direct his own destiny with dignity or wisdom for ten sequent minutes."
― Thomas Wolfe, Yous Tin't Become Dwelling Again

"This is human being, who, if he can recollect ten gilt moments of joy and happiness out of all his years, ten moments unmarked by care, unseamed past aches or itches, has power to lift himself with his expiring jiff and say: "I have lived upon this world and known celebrity!"
― Thomas Wolfe, Y'all Can't Go Home Over again

"Something has spoken to me in the nighttime...and told me that I shall die, I know non where. Saying: "[Death is] to lose the earth you know for greater knowing; to lose the life you have, for greater life; to exit the friends you loved, for greater loving; to find a land more kind than dwelling house, more large than globe."
― Thomas Wolfe, You Can't Go Home Again

"Well," he said, quite seriously, "it'due south this fashion: you piece of work because you're afraid not to. You piece of work becuase you take to bulldoze yourself to such a fury to begin. That part'south but plain hell! It's so hard to get started that once you do y'all're afraid of slipping dorsum. You'd rather exercise anything than get through all that agony again--so yous keep going--you go along going faster all the time--you keep going till y'all couldn't stop even if you lot wanted to. You lot forget to eat, to shave, to put on a clean shirt when y'all have one. You almost forget to slumber, and when y'all practice effort to you can't--because the avalanche has started, and it keeps going nighttime and twenty-four hour period. And people say: 'Why don't you finish sometime? Why don't you lot forget well-nigh it now so? Why don't you accept a few days off?' And y'all don't practice it considering you tin can'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 over again. And so people say you're a glutton for piece of work, but it isn't and so. It's laziness--merely plain, damned, unproblematic laziness, that'due south all...Napoleon--and--and Balzac--and Thomas Edison--these fellows who never sleep more than an hour or 2 at a time, and tin can go along going night and day--why that's not because they dearest to work! It's because they're really lazy--and agape not to piece of work considering they know they're lazy! Why, hell yes!..I'll bet y'all annihilation y'all like if you lot could really find out what'southward going on in old Edison's mind, you lot'd find that he wished he could stay in bed every day until ii o'clock in the afternoon! And then get up and scratch himself! And then lie around in the sun for awhile! And hang around with the boys downwardly at the village shop, talking about politics, and who'southward going to win the World Series side by side fall!"
― Thomas Wolfe, You Can't Get Home Again

"The lives of men who take to live in our great cities are often 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 affluence. The crystal stream flows about their lips but always falls away when they try to drink of it. The vine, rich-weighted with its gilded fruit, bends down, comes almost, merely springs back when they attain out to affect information technology...In other times, when painters tried to paint a scene of awful desolation, they chose the desert or a heath of arid rocks, and there would endeavor to picture homo in his great loneliness--the prophet in the desert, Elijah being fed by ravens on the rocks. But for a modern painter, the about desolate scene would accept to be a street in almost any one of our great cities on a Sunday afternoon."
― Thomas Wolfe, You Can't Become Domicile Over again

"At these repeated signs of decadence in a society which had once been the object of his envy and his highest appetite, Webber'due south confront had begun to accept on a await of contemptuousness...Yes, all these people looked at i some other with untelling optics. Their speech was coincidental, 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 now with a cynical and tickled look in their untelling eyes. Nothing shocked them anymore. It was the fashion things were. It was what they had come up to expect of life...He himself had non still come to that, he did not want to come to information technology."
― Thomas Wolfe, You Can't Become Home Once again

"For he had learned tonight that honey was not enough. 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 globe with all its wealth and privilege. Throughout his whole youth and early manhood, this very world of beauty, ease, and luxury, of ability, celebrity, and security, had seemed the ultimate end of man ambition, the furthermost limit to which the aspirations of whatever man could reach. But tonight, in a hundred carve up 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 operations of mutual flesh'southward blood and sweat and agony...Privilege and truth could not lie down together. He idea of how a argent dollar, if held close enough to the eye, could blot out the sun itself. In that location were stronger, deeper tides and currents running in America than any which these glamorous lives this night had ever plumbed or even dreamed of. Those were the depths he would like to sound."
― Thomas Wolfe, Y'all Can't Become Home Again

"I had not yet learned that one cannot actually be superior without humility and tolerance and human understanding. I did not however know that in order to vest to a rare and college brood one must kickoff develop the true power and talent of selfless immolation."
― Thomas Wolfe, Y'all Tin't Go Home Again

"The highest intelligences of the time—the very subtlest of the called few—were bored by many things. They tilled the waste country, 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 cypher. They were bored with spousal relationship, 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 dwelling. They were bored with the dandy poets of the earth, whose nifty 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 homo's right to live. They were bored with living, they were bored with dying, but—they were non bored that yr with Mr. Piggy Logan and his circus of wire dolls."
― Thomas Wolfe, You Can't Go Home Again

"(Baseball'due south a dull game, really; that'southward the reason that it is so good. We do non dear the game so much as we love the sprawl and drowse and shirt-sleeved apathy of it.)"
― Thomas Wolfe, You Tin can't Go Dwelling Again

"Telling the truth is a pretty hard thing. And in a young man'due south first effort, 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 it was not altogether a true book. Nonetheless, 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 complain about: you know damn well I understand what you did and why you had to do information technology. Simply merely the aforementioned, there were some things that you did not have to do -- and you'd have had a better book if you hadn't done them."
― Thomas Wolfe, Yous Tin't Get Domicile Once again

"The only shame George Webber felt was that at one time in his life, for however short a period, he broke bread and sat at the same table with any 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 eye to get the body of a scented whore that might take been meliorate got in a brothel for some greasy coins. This was the simply shame he felt. And this shame was and then cracking in him that he wondered if all his life thereafter would be long plenty to wash out of his brain and blood the final pollution of its loathsome taint."
― Thomas Wolfe, You lot Can't Become Abode Over again

"This is Brooklyn--which means x 1000 streets and blocks like this one. Brooklyn, Admiral Drake, is the Standard Full-bodied Anarchy No. ane of the Whole Universe. That is to say, information technology has no size, no shape, no centre, no joy, no hope, no aspiration, no center, no optics, no soul, no purpose, no direction, and no annihilation--just Standard Concentrated Units everywhere--exploding in all directions for an unknown number of square miles similar a completely triumphant Standard Full-bodied Blot upon the Face of the Earth."
― Thomas Wolfe, Y'all Can't Get Dwelling house Once more

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