James Joyce Quotes
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The artist, like the God of the creation, remains within or behind or beyond or above his handiwork, invisible, refined out of existence, indifferent, paring his fingernails.
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He comes into the world God knows how, walks on the water, gets out of his grave and goes up off the Hill of Howth. What drivel is this?
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Phall if you but will, rise you must: and none so soon either shall the pharce for the nunce come to a setdown secular phoenish. (4.15-17)
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The oaks of ald now they lie in peat yet elms leap where askes lay. (4.14-15)
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A Place for Everything and Everything in its Place, Is the Pen Mightier than the Sword? A Successful Career in the Civil Service.
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I think a child should be allowed to take his father's or mother's name at will on coming of age. Paternity is a legal fiction.
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No pen, no ink, no table, no room, no time, no quiet, no inclination.
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Beauty, the splendour of truth, is a gracious presence when the imagination contemplates intensely the truth of its own being or the visible world, and the spirit which proceeds out of truth and beauty is the holy spirit of joy. These are realities and these alone give and sustain life.
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Again!
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The pity is the public will demand and find a moral in my book - or worse they may take it in some more serious way, and on the honor of a gentleman, there is not one single serious line in it.
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When I hear the word 'stream' uttered with such a revolting primness, what I think of is urine and not the contemporary novel. And besides, it isn't new, it is far from the dernier cri. Shakespeare used it continually, much too much in my opinion, and there's Tristram Shandy, not to mention the Agamemnon.
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Whatever else is unsure in this stinking dunghill of a world a mother's love is not.
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The demand that I make of my reader is that he should devote his whole Life to reading my works.
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She dealt with moral problems the way a cleaver deals with meat: and in this case she had made up her mind.
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But toms will till. I know he well.
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My words in her mind: cold polished stones sinking through a quagmire.
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The sly reeds whisper to the nightA name - her name -
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A man of genius makes no mistakes; his errors are volitional and are the portals of discovery.
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The fragrant hair,Falling as through the silence falleth nowDusk of the air.
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One great part of every human existence is passed in a state which cannot be rendered sensible by the use of wideawake language, cutanddry grammar and goahead plot.
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There is not past, no future; everything flows in an eternal present.
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One of his sentences, written two months after his last interview with Mrs. Sinico, read: Love between man and man is impossible because there must not be sexual intercourse and friendship between man and woman is impossible because there must be sexual intercourse.
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But my body was like a harp and her words and gestures were like fingers running upon the wires.
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I am tomorrow, or some future day, what I establish today. I am today what I established yesterday or some previous day.