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534d158
|
Think you're escaping and run into yourself. Longest way round is the shortest way home.
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ulysses
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James Joyce |
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5e13ac5
|
His heart danced upon her movements like a cork upon a tide. He heard what her eyes said to him from beneath their cowl and knew that in some dim past, whether in life or revery, he had heard their tale before.
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love
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James Joyce |
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acc0062
|
History, Stephen said, is a nightmare from which I am trying to awake.
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truth
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James Joyce |
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f763fa5
|
I will tell you what I will do and what I will not do. I will not serve that in which I no longer believe, whether it calls itself my home, my fatherland, or my church: and I will try to express myself in some mode of life or art as freely as I can and as wholly as I can, using for my defense the only arms I allow myself to use -- silence, exile, and cunning.
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politics
|
James Joyce |
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f827da4
|
You made me confess the fears that I have. But I will tell you also what I do not fear. I do not fear to be alone or to be spurned for another or to leave whatever I have to leave. And I am not afraid to make a mistake, even a great mistake, a lifelong mistake and perhaps as long as eternity too.
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religion
love
|
James Joyce |
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6604c26
|
I was a Flower of the mountain yes when I put the rose in my hair like the Andalusian girls used or shall I wear a red yes and how he kissed me under the Moorish wall and I thought well as well him as another and then I asked him with my eyes to ask again yes and then he asked me would I yes to say yes my mountain flower and first I put my arms around him yes and drew him down to me so he could feel my breasts all perfume yes and his heart ..
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James Joyce |
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d95a43e
|
Love loves to love love.
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James Joyce |
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3609d27
|
A man of genius makes no mistakes. His errors are volitional and are the portals of discovery.
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James Joyce |
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3ff1d76
|
He wanted to cry quietly but not for himself: for the words, so beautiful and sad, like music.
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words
|
James Joyce |
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d32eed8
|
A few light taps upon the pane made him turn to the window. It had begun to snow again. He watched sleepily the flakes, silver and dark, falling obliquely against the lamplight. The time had come for him to set out on his journey westward. Yes, the newspapers were right: snow was general all over Ireland. It was falling on every part of the dark central plain, on the treeless hills, falling softly upon the Bog of Allen and, farther westward..
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James Joyce |
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6ebf849
|
Every life is in many days, day after day. We walk through ourselves, meeting robbers, ghosts, giants, old men, young men, wives, widows, brothers-in-love, but always meeting ourselves.
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James Joyce |
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8206d1b
|
They lived and laughed and loved and left.
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James Joyce |
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aa60303
|
Stately, plump Buck Mulligan came from the stairhead, bearing a bowl of lather on which a mirror and a razor lay crossed.
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shaving
first-lines
ireland
opening-lines
|
James Joyce |
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6c4d81e
|
Why is it that words like these seem dull and cold? Is it because there is no word tender enough to be your name?
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James Joyce |
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c770ffe
|
and yet her name was like a summons to all my foolish blood.
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love
irish_short_stories
|
James Joyce |
|
2cc7815
|
The sea, the snotgreen sea, the scrotumtightening sea.
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|
lyrical
irish
sea
|
James Joyce |
|
286a056
|
Her antiquity in preceding and surviving succeeding tellurian generations: her nocturnal predominance: her satellitic dependence: her luminary reflection: her constancy under all her phases, rising and setting by her appointed times, waxing and waning: the forced invariability of her aspect: her indeterminate response to inaffirmative interrogation: her potency over effluent and refluent waters: her power to enamour, to mortify, to invest w..
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woman
|
James Joyce |
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d25a5a1
|
Shakespeare is the happy hunting ground of all minds that have lost their balance.
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|
James Joyce |
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cfd7bc6
|
Her lips touched his brain as they touched his lips, as though they were a vehicle of some vague speech and between them he felt an unknown and timid preasure, darker than the swoon of sin, softer than sound or odor.
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|
seduction
|
James Joyce |
|
5419c10
|
Welcome, O life! I go to encounter for the millionth time the reality of experience and to forge in the smithy of my soul the uncreated conscience of my race.
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James Joyce |
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c8c6a63
|
One by one they were all becoming shades. Better pass boldly into that other world, in the full glory of some passion, than fade and wither dismally with age.
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|
passion
|
James Joyce |
|
f6c4cfe
|
Mr. Duffy lived a short distance from his body.
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|
James Joyce |
|
c1f7ea3
|
The supreme question about a work of art is out of how deep a life does it spring.
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|
James Joyce |
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13d0fd1
|
First we feel. Then we fall.
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|
James Joyce |
|
b3a8c04
|
Moments of their secret life together burst like stars upon his memory.
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|
James Joyce |
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191ceaa
|
He was alone. He was unheeded, happy, and near to the wild heart of life. He was alone and young and wilful and wildhearted, alone amid a waste of wild air and brackish waters and the seaharvest of shells and tangle and veiled grey sunlight.
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James Joyce |
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0a170f6
|
Too excited to be genuinely happy
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James Joyce |
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be05c36
|
The heaventree of stars hung with humid nightblue fruit.
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|
James Joyce |
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5a5033c
|
I fear those big words, Stephen said, which make us so unhappy.
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James Joyce |
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06708fb
|
God made food; the devil the cooks.
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|
James Joyce |
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70e1f3f
|
My sweet little whorish Nora I did as you told me, you dirty little girl, and pulled myself off twice when I read your letter. I am delighted to see that you do like being fucked arseways. Yes, now I can remember that night when I fucked you for so long backwards. It was the dirtiest fucking I ever gave you, darling. My prick was stuck in you for hours, fucking in and out under your upturned rump. I felt your fat sweaty buttocks under my be..
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|
sex
filth
porn
|
James Joyce |
|
71cd389
|
The object of the artist is the creation of the beautiful. What the beautiful is is another question.
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|
object
beautiful
question
artist
creation
|
James Joyce |
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f069d80
|
To learn one must be humble. But life is the great teacher.
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|
James Joyce |
|
623adb5
|
I wanted real adventures to happen to myself. But real adventures, I reflected, do not happen to people who remain at home: they must be sought abroad.
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|
James Joyce |
|
6eccebe
|
And if he had judged her harshly? If her life were a simple rosary of hours, her life simple and strange as a bird's life, gay in the morning, restless all day, tired at sundown? Her heart simple and willful as a bird's heart?
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|
women
spirituality
subjectivity
|
James Joyce |
|
3d3d343
|
Let my country die for me.
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|
James Joyce |
|
f759255
|
What's in a name? That is what we ask ourselves in childhood when we write the name that we are told is ours.
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James Joyce |
|
51fc39d
|
Hold to the now, the here, through which all future plunges to the past.
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James Joyce |
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7b5b3a7
|
Have read little and understood less.
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James Joyce |
|
3b5a286
|
As you are now so once were we.
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James Joyce |
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c970536
|
When a man is born...there are nets flung at it to hold it back from flight. You talk to me of nationality, language, religion. I shall try to fly by those nets.
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James Joyce |
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bf43085
|
The movements which work revolutions in the world are born out of the dreams and visions in a peasant's heart on the hillside.
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|
James Joyce |
|
3833c35
|
My heart is quite calm now. I will go back.
|
|
ireland
james-joyce
|
James Joyce |
|
26e56f5
|
He lived at a little distance from his body, regarding his own acts with doubtful side-glances. He had an odd autobiographical habit which led him to compose in his mind from time to time a short sentence about himself containing a subject in the third person and a verb in the past tense.
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James Joyce |