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You Tin't Go Dwelling house Once again by Thomas Wolfe
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You Can't Go Dwelling Again Quotes Showing 1-xxx of 48

"Make your mistakes, take your chances, look airheaded, but keep on going. Don't freeze up."
― Thomas Wolfe, You Can't Go Dwelling house Again

"Child, child, have patience and conventionalities, for life is many days, and each present 60 minutes volition pass abroad. 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 - but so take we. You plant the earth too nifty for your ane life, yous found your encephalon and sinew smaller than the hunger and desire that fed on them - just it has been this way with all men. You accept stumbled on in darkness, you accept been pulled in opposite directions, you take faltered, you have missed the way, but, child, this is the chronicle of the earth. And now, considering you take known madness and despair, and because you lot will grow desperate once again before you come to evening, we who accept stormed the ramparts of the furious earth and been hurled back, nosotros who take been maddened by the unknowable and biting mystery of love, nosotros who have hungered later fame and savored all of life, the tumult, pain, and frenzy, and now sit quietly past our windows watching all that henceforth never more than shall bear upon us - we call upon yous to take heart, for nosotros tin swear to you that these things pass."
― Thomas Wolfe, Yous Tin't Get Home Once more

"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 world you lot know for greater knowing; to lose the life y'all accept, for greater life; to exit the friends you loved, for greater loving; to find a land more kind than home, more big than globe."
― Thomas Wolfe, You Can't Go Home Again

"From p. 40 of Signet Edition of Thomas Wolfe's _You Tin can't Go Home Again_ (1940):

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

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

The glitter of sunlight on roughened water, the celebrity of the stars, the innocence of morn, the odor of the sea in harbors, the feathery mistiness and smoky buddings of immature boughs, and something there that comes and goes and never tin can be captured, the thorn of spring, the sharp and tongueless cry--these things will e'er be the same.

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 copse whose stiff arms clash and tremble in the dark, and the grit of lovers long since cached in the earth--all things proceeding from the earth to seasons, all things that lapse and change and come over again upon the earth--these things volition always be the same, for they come up from the earth that never changes, they go dorsum into the globe that lasts forever. Only the earth endures, but information technology endures forever.

The tarantula, the adder, and the asp volition besides never change. Hurting and expiry will always be the aforementioned. But under the pavements trembling like a pulse, nether the buildings trembling like a weep, nether the waste product of time, under the hoof of the beast above the broken bones of cities, there will be something growing similar a flower, something bursting from the earth again, forever deathless, faithful, coming into life over again similar April."
― Thomas Wolfe, You lot Can't Go Dwelling Once more

"Information technology seems to me that in the orbit of our world you are the North Pole, I the South--so much in rest, in agreement--and yet... the whole globe lies between."
― Thomas Wolfe, Y'all Tin can't Go Domicile Again

"He had learned some of the things that every human being must detect out for himself, and he had found out nearly them every bit i has to notice out--through fault and through trial, through fantasy and illusion, through falsehood and his own damn foolishness, through beingness mistaken and wrong and an idiot and egotistical and aspiring and hopeful and believing and confused. Each thing he learned was so unproblematic and obvious, once he grasped information technology, that he wondered why he had not always known information technology. And what had he learned? A philosopher would not think it much, perhaps, and even so in a simple human mode it was a skilful bargain. Merely past living, my making the thousand little daily choices that his whole complex of heredity, environment, 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 block and have it, also. He had learned that in spite of his strange body, then much off scale that it had frequently fabricated him think himself a animate being set apart, he was nevertheless 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 past had been cocky-inflicted, and an inevitable part of growing upwards. And, virtually of import of all for one who had taken so long to grow up, he thought he had learned not to exist the slave of his emotions."
― Thomas Wolfe, You Tin't Become Dwelling Again

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

"Peace fell upon her spirit. Strong comfort and assurance bathed her whole existence. Life was so solid and splendid, and and then good."
― Thomas Wolfe, You Can't Go Habitation Over again

"Simply why had he e'er felt so strongly the magnetic pull of home, why had he thought and then much virtually it and remembered it with such blazing accuracy, if information technology did not matter, and if this little town, and the immortal hills around it, was not the only home he had on earth? He did not know. All that he knew was that the years flow by like water, and that one day men come dwelling house again."
― Thomas Wolfe, You lot Can't Become Home Again

"There came to him an image of man's whole life upon the earth. It seemed to him that all human'due south 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 celebrity, came from the brevity and smallness of this flame. He knew his life was niggling and would be extinguished, and that only darkness was immense and everlasting. And he knew that he would die with disobedience on his lips, and that the shout of his deprival would band with the last pulsing of his heart into the maw of all-engulfing night."
― Thomas Wolfe, You Tin't Go Home Over again

"[T]he essence of conventionalities is doubt, the essence of reality is questioning. The essence of Fourth dimension is Flow, not Fix. The essence of faith is the cognition that all flows and that everything must modify. The growing human being is Homo Alive, and his "philosophy" must grow, must menstruum, with him. . . . the man too fixed today, unfixed tomorrow - and his body of beliefs is nil but a series of fixations."
― Thomas Wolfe, You Can't Go Home Over again

"Toil on, son, and do not lose heart or promise. Let zero you dismay. You lot are not utterly forsaken. I, as well, am here--here in the darkness waiting, here attentive, here approval of your labor and your dream."
― Thomas Wolfe, You Can't Go Abode Again

"All things belonging to the earth volition never change-the foliage, the blade, the flower, the wind that cries and sleeps and wakes again, the trees whose stiff arms clash and tremble in the dark, and the grit of lovers long since buried in the earth-all things proceeding from the earth to seasons, all things that lapse and alter and come up once again upon the earth-these things will ever exist the same, for they come up from the earth that never changes, they go back into the earth that lasts forever. Only the earth endures, but it endures forever."
― Thomas Wolfe, You Tin can't Go Home Again

"But information technology is not merely at these outward forms that we must look to notice the show of a nation'southward hurt. We must await likewise at the heart of guilt that beats in each of the states, for in that location the cause lies. We must look, and with our own eyes see, the central core of defeat and shame and failure which we have wrought in the lives of even the to the lowest degree of these, our brothers. And why must we wait? Because nosotros must probe to the bottom of our commonage wound. As men, equally Americans, we tin no longer cringe abroad and lie. Are we not all warmed by the same sunday, frozen by the same cold, shone on by the same lights of time and terror here in America? Yes, and if nosotros exercise non look and run into it, we shall all exist damned together."
― Thomas Wolfe, You Can't Go Abode Once more

"The human heed 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 upshot completely shatters the club of 1's life, the heed, if information technology 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 around him, takes his bearings, and says, "Well, where exercise I get from here?"
― Thomas Wolfe, You Can't Go Home Over again

"This is human: a author 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 some other's work, he finds the one way, the true way, for himself, and calls all others fake--yet in the billion books upon the shelves there is not one that tin 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 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 Go Dwelling Again

"This is man, who, if he can remember 10 gilded moments of joy and happiness out of all his years, ten moments unmarked by intendance, unseamed by aches or itches, has power to lift himself with his expiring breath and say: "I accept lived upon this earth and known celebrity!"
― Thomas Wolfe, Yous Tin't Go Home Again

"Something has spoken to me in the nighttime...and told me that I shall die, I know not where. Proverb: "[Decease is] to lose the earth you lot know for greater knowing; to lose the life you accept, for greater life; to leave the friends you loved, for greater loving; to notice a land more kind than home, more big than earth."
― Thomas Wolfe, You Can't Go Home Once more

"Well," he said, quite seriously, "it'south this way: you work because you're afraid not to. You lot work becuase you lot take to drive yourself to such a fury to begin. That function'due south just plain hell! Information technology's so difficult to become started that once y'all practice you're afraid of slipping back. You'd rather do anything than go through all that agony again--then you continue going--yous go along going faster all the fourth dimension--you keep going till you lot couldn't terminate even if you wanted to. You forget to eat, to shave, to put on a make clean shirt when you have one. You lot almost forget to sleep, and when y'all do try to yous can't--because the avalanche has started, and information technology keeps going night and day. And people say: 'Why don't you stop former? Why don't y'all forget almost it now and so? Why don't y'all take a few days off?' And you lot don't do it because you can't--yous can't stop yourself--and even if you lot could y'all'd be afraid to because there'd be all that hell to go through getting started upwards again. Then people say yous're a glutton for piece of work, merely information technology isn't so. Information technology's laziness--just plain, damned, elementary laziness, that'due south all...Napoleon--and--and Balzac--and Thomas Edison--these fellows who never sleep more than an hour or two at a time, and can go on going night and day--why that's non because they love to work! Information technology'due south because they're actually lazy--and afraid non to piece of work considering they know they're lazy! Why, hell aye!..I'll bet you annihilation y'all similar if you could actually find out what's going on in old Edison'south mind, yous'd find that he wished he could stay in bed every mean solar day until two o'clock in the afternoon! And so get up and scratch himself! And so lie effectually in the sun for awhile! And hang around with the boys downward at the village store, talking about politics, and who'south going to win the Earth Series next autumn!"
― Thomas Wolfe, You Tin't Go Dwelling Again

"The lives of men who have to alive in our great cities are often tragically lonely. In many more means 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 merely always falls away when they try to drink of it. The vine, rich-weighted with its golden fruit, bends down, comes about, only springs back when they achieve out to impact it...In other times, when painters tried to paint a scene of awful desolation, they chose the desert or a heath of arid rocks, and at that place would try to picture man in his great loneliness--the prophet in the desert, Elijah being fed by ravens on the rocks. But for a modern painter, the virtually desolate scene would have to be a street in nearly any one of our great cities on a Sun afternoon."
― Thomas Wolfe, You Tin't Go Home Again

"At these repeated signs of decadence in a club which had once been the object of his envy and his highest ambition, Webber'southward confront had begun to take on a look of scorn...Aye, all these people looked at ane another with untelling optics. Their speech 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 style things were. Information technology was what they had come to expect of life...He himself had non yet come to that, he did not want to come up to it."
― Thomas Wolfe, You Can't Go Home Again

"For he had learned tonight that love was not enough. At that place had to be a higher devotion than all the devotions of this fond imprisonment. There had to be 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 globe of beauty, ease, and luxury, of ability, glory, and security, had seemed the ultimate end of human ambition, the furthermost limit to which the aspirations of whatsoever man could accomplish. But 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 fake social structure had been erected and sustained upon a base of common flesh's claret and sweat and desperation...Privilege and truth could not lie down together. He thought of how a silver dollar, if held close enough to the eye, could blot out the lord's day itself. There were stronger, deeper tides and currents running in America than whatever which these glamorous lives this night had always plumbed or even dreamed of. Those were the depths he would like to sound."
― Thomas Wolfe, You Can't Go Abode Again

"I had non yet learned that i cannot really be superior without humility and tolerance and human understanding. I did not still know that in lodge to belong to a rare and college breed one must outset develop the true power and talent of selfless immolation."
― Thomas Wolfe, You Can'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 land, and erosion had grown stylish. 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 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 abode. They were bored with the great poets of the world, 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, freedom, and human'south correct to live. They were bored with living, they were bored with dying, but—they were non bored that twelvemonth with Mr. Piggy Logan and his circus of wire dolls."
― Thomas Wolfe, Y'all Can't Go Abode Once again

"(Baseball's a boring game, really; that's the reason that it is then good. We do non dearest the game then much as we love the sprawl and drowse and shirt-sleeved aloofness of information technology.)"
― Thomas Wolfe, You Tin't Go Home Once again

"Telling the truth is a pretty hard thing. And in a boyfriend'south start attempt, with the distortions of his vanity, egotism, hot passion, and lacerated pride, it is nearly impossible. "Home to Our Mountains" was marred past all these faults and imperfections...[Webber] did know that information technology was non altogether a true volume. Yet, at that place was truth in it.
...
[from Randy] At that place were places where [your book] rubbed salt in. In saying this, I'thou non like those others you lot complain about: you know damn well I empathize what you did and why you had to practice it. But just the same, there were some things that yous did not have to do -- and you'd have had a better book if you hadn't washed them."
― Thomas Wolfe, You Tin can't Go Home Again

"The but shame George Webber felt was that at one fourth dimension in his life, for however 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 encephalon and the blood of his heart to get the torso of a scented whore that might take been better got in a brothel for some greasy coins. This was the merely shame he felt. And this shame was so great in him that he wondered if all his life thereafter would be long enough to wash out of his brain and blood the last pollution of its loathsome taint."
― Thomas Wolfe, You lot Can't Go Home Again

"This is Brooklyn--which means ten 1000 streets and blocks like this one. Brooklyn, Admiral Drake, is the Standard Concentrated Chaos No. one of the Whole Universe. That is to say, it has no size, no shape, no middle, no joy, no hope, no aspiration, no center, no eyes, no soul, no purpose, no direction, and no anything--merely Standard Full-bodied Units everywhere--exploding in all directions for an unknown number of square miles similar a completely triumphant Standard Concentrated Blot upon the Confront of the Earth."
― Thomas Wolfe, You Tin can't Become Domicile Once more

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