“So all were gone at last, one by one, each swept out into the mighty flood tide of the city's life, there to prove,… — Thomas Wolfe Copy Share Image
“A stick is not only wood but the negation of wood. It is the meeting in space of wood and no-wood. A stick is… — Thomas Wolfe Copy Share Image
All things on earth point home in old October; sailors to sea, travellers to walls and fences, hunters to field and hollow and the… — Thomas Wolfe Copy Share Image
“At these repeated signs of decadence in a society which had once 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 one another with untelling eyes. Their speech was casual, quick, and witty. But they did not say the things they knew. And… — Thomas Wolfe Copy Share
If a man has talent and can't use it, he's failed. If he uses only half of it, he has partly failed. If he… — Thomas Wolfe Copy Share Image
There came to him an image of man’s whole life upon the earth. 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… — Thomas Wolfe Copy Share
“He had learned some of the things that every man must find out for himself, and he had found out about them as one 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… — Thomas Wolfe Copy Share
What I had to face, the very bitter lesson that everyone who wants to write has got to learn, was that a thing may… — Thomas Wolfe Copy Share Image
The mountains were his masters. They rimmed in life. They were the cup of reality, beyond growth, beyond struggle and death. They were his… — Thomas Wolfe Copy Share Image
“For four years he lived in Brooklyn, and four years in Brooklyn are a geologic age -- a single stratum of grey time. They were years of poverty, of desperation, of loneliness unutterable. All about him were the poor, the outcast, the neglected and forsaken people of America, and he was one of them. But life is strong, and year… — Thomas Wolfe Copy Share
“Eugene looked with passionate devotion at that grand old head, calm, wise and comforting. In a moment of vision, he saw that, for him,… — Thomas Wolfe Copy Share Image
Each moment is the fruit of forty thousand years. The minute-winning days, like flies, buzz home to death, and every moment is a window… — Thomas Wolfe Copy Share Image
