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
children moving heart
By God, I shall spend the rest of my life getting my heart back, healing and forgetting every scar you put upon me when I was a child. The first move I ever made, after the cradle, was to crawl for the door, and every move I have made since has been an effort to escape.
heart night men
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 life was little 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 last pulsing of his heart into the maw of all-engulfing night.
book heart numbers
The thought of these vast stacks of books would drive him mad: the more he read, the less he seemed to know — the greater the number of the books he read, the greater the immense uncountable number of those which he could never read would seem to be…. The thought that other books were waiting for him tore at his heart forever.
dream heart son
Toil on, son, and do not lose heart or hope. Let nothing you 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.
girl heart blood
My dear, dear girl [. . .] we can't turn back the days that have gone. We can't turn life back to the hours when our lungs were sound, our blood hot, our bodies young. We are a flash of fire--a brain, a heart, a spirit. And we are three-cents-worth of lime and iron--which we cannot get back.
heart cities people
The old hunger for voyages fed at his heart....To go alone...into strange cities; to meet strange people and to pass again before they could know him; to wander, like his own legend, across the earth--it seemed to him there could be no better thing than that.
death
Death the last voyage, the longest, and the best.
america certain fixed haunting paradox perhaps strange
Perhaps this is our strange and haunting paradox here in America - that we are fixed and certain only when we are in movement.
advertising american-novelist hard mysterious predict publishing reception sale seems
Publishing is a very mysterious business. It is hard to predict what kind of sale or reception a book will have, and advertising seems to do very little good.
american-novelist time
Most of the time we think we're sick, it's all in the mind.
york
One belongs to New York instantly. One belongs to it as much in five minutes as in five years.
american-journalist forget reader reads writer writes
The reason a writer writes a book is to forget a book and the reason a reader reads one is to remember it.
american-journalist few half man men partly uses won
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 uses the whole of it, he has succeeded, and won a satisfaction and triumph few men ever know.
art time new-york
Not even the most powerful organs of the press, including Time, Newsweek, and The New York Times, can discover a new artist or certify his work and make it stick. They can only bring you the scores.