For those of you who can't get past my doctor's handwriting (and most days, I can't decipher it either), the handwritten passage is from Look Homeward, Angel, and reads:
The seed of our destruction will blossom in the desert, the alexin of our cure grows by a mountain rock, and our lives are haunted by a Georgia slattern, because a London cut-purse went unhung. Each moment is the fruit of forty thousand years. The minute-winning days, like flies, buzz home to death, and every moment is a window on all time.
- Thomas Wolfe