Explore "You Can't Go Home Again" by Thomas Wolfe on Textopian. Read with annotations and highlights.
The train gathered speed. The streets and buildings in the western I part of the city slipped past--those solid, ugly streets, those massive, ugly buildings in the Victorian German style, which yet, with all the pleasant green of trees, the window-boxes bright with red geraniums, the air of order, of substance, and of comfort, had always seemed as familiar and as pleasant to George as the quiet streets and houses of a little town.
Already they were sweeping through Charlottenburg. They passed the station without halting, and on the platforms George saw, with the old and poignant feeling of regret and loss, the people waiting for the Stadtbahn trains. Upon its elevated track the great train swept on smoothly towards the west, gathering momentum steadily. They passed the Funkturma. Almost before he knew it they were rushing through the outskirts of the city towards the open country. They passed an aviation field. He saw the hangars and a flock of shining 'planes. And as he looked, a great silver-bodied 'plane moved out, sped along the runway, lofted its tail, broke slowly from the earth, and vanished.