Thomas Wolfe
Thomas Wolfe
Thomas Clayton Wolfewas an American novelist of the early twentieth century...
NationalityAmerican
ProfessionNovelist
Date of Birth3 October 1900
CityAsheville, NC
CountryUnited States of America
travel voyages lasts
There is one voyage, the first, the last, the only one.
lying our-world agreement
It seems to me that in the orbit of our world you are the North Pole, I the South--so much in balance, in agreement--and yet... the whole world lies between.
summer sadness autumn
Then summer fades and passes and October comes. We'll smell smoke then, and feel an unexpected sharpness, a thrill of nervousness, swift elation, a sense of sadness and departure.
dream believe thinking
I believe that we are lost here in America, but I believe we shall be found. And this belief, which mounts now to the catharsis of knowledge and conviction, is for me--and I think for all of us--not only our own hope, but America's everlasting, living dream.
love food sight
There’s no sight on earth more appealing than that of a woman making dinner for someone she loves.
beautiful lying sleep
In Sleep we lie all naked and alone, in Sleep we are united at the heart of night and darkness, and we are strange and beautiful asleep; for we are dying the darkness and we know no death.
healing self order
The human mind 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 event completely shatters the order of one's life, the mind, if it has youth and health and time enough, accepts the inevitable and gets itself ready 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 go from here?
art culture art-and-culture
Culture is the arts elevated to a set of beliefs.
brooklyn knows
Only the dead know Brooklyn.
apples tree singing
And who shall say--whatever disenchantment follows--that we ever forget magic; or that we can ever betray, on this leaden earth, the apple-tree, the singing, and the gold?
struggle reality unity
The mountains were his masters. They rimmed in life. They were the cup of reality, beyond growth, beyond struggle and death. They were his absolute unity in the midst of eternal change.
eye men towns
...he was like a man who stands upon a hill above the town he had left, yet does not say 'The town is near,' but turns his eyes upon the distant soaring ranges.
writing done pieces
What I had to face, the very bitter lesson that everyone who wants to write has got to learn, was that a thing may in itself be the finest piece of writing one has ever done, and yet have absolutely no place in the manuscript one hopes to publish.
lonely loneliness being-alone
Loneliness is and always has been the central and inevitable experience of every man.