the remote, demented wind was howling in the barren trees, as he had heard it do so many times in his childhood, and far off, far-faint and broken by the wind, he heard the wailing cry of a great train, bringing to him again its wild and secret promises of flight and darkness, new lands, and a shining city. and there was something wild and dark and sweet in him that he could never quite utter. the strange and bitter miracle of life had filled him and he could not speak, and all he knew was that he was leaving home forever, that the world, the future of dark time, and of man's destiny lay before him, and that he would never live in his mother's house again.
thomas wolfe of time and the river: volume I
Subscribe to:
Post Comments (Atom)
No comments:
Post a Comment