James Joyce Quotes
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No pen, no ink, no table, no room, no time, no quiet, no inclination.
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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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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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Think you're escaping and run into yourself. Longest way round is the shortest way home.
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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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Whatever else is unsure in this stinking dunghill of a world a mother's love is not.
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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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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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The fragrant hair,Falling as through the silence falleth nowDusk of the air.
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But toms will till. I know he well.
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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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Every age must look for its sanction to its poetry and philosophy, for in these the human mind, as it looks backward or forward, attains to an eternal state.
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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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Gazing up into the darkness I saw myself as a creature driven and derided by vanity; and my eyes burned with anguish and anger.
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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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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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Again!
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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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The sly reeds whisper to the nightA name - her name -
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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.
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History, Stephen said, is a nightmare from which I am trying to awake.
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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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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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My words in her mind: cold polished stones sinking through a quagmire.