“Through Chance, we are each a ghost to all the others, and our only reality; through Chance, the huge hinge of the world, and a grain of dust; the stone that starts an avalanche, the pebble whose concentric circles widen across the seas.”
More from Thomas Wolfe
“We do not want to be told what we know. We do not want to call things by their names,…”
“I am, he thought, a part of all that I have touched and that has touched me, which, having…”
“Out of the nameless and unfathomed weavings of billion-footed life, out of the dark abyss…”
“So all were gone at last, one by one, each swept out into the mighty flood tide of the…”