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Danh ngôn của Thomas Wolfe (Sứ mệnh: 2)

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.
Culture is the arts elevated to a set of beliefs.
Death the last voyage, the longest, and the best.
Is this not the true romantic feeling; not to desire to escape life, but to prevent life from escaping you.
All things on earth point home in old October; sailors to sea, travellers to walls and fences, hunters to field and hollow and the long voice of the hounds, the lover to the love he has forsaken.
Loneliness is and always has been the central and inevitable experience of every man.