My words in her mind: cold polished stones sinking through a quagmire. — James Joyce Copy Share Image
(...) You cruel creature, little mite of a thing with a heart the size of a fullstop. — James Joyce Copy Share Image
The movements which work revolutions in the world are born out of the dreams and visions in a peasant's heart on the… — James Joyce Copy Share Image
He thought that he was sick in his heart if you could be sick in that place. — James Joyce Copy Share Image
“It was hard work-a hard life-but now that she was about to leave it she did not find it a wholly undesirable… — James Joyce Copy Share Image
There is only one thing that makes any one athlete better than another, his heart. We all put our underwear on feet… — James Joyce Copy Share Image
My eyes were often full of tears (I could not tell why) and at times a flood from my heart seemed to… — James Joyce Copy Share Image
Secrets, silent, stony sit in the dark palaces of both our hearts: secrets weary of their tyranny: tyrants willing to be dethroned. — James Joyce Copy Share Image
She would follow, her dream of love, the dictates of her heart that told her he was her all in all, the… — James Joyce Copy Share Image
Broken heart. A pump after all, pumping thousands of gallons of blood every day. One fine day it gets bunged up and… — James Joyce Copy Share Image
O thanks be to the great God I got somebody to give me what I badly wanted to put some heart up… — James Joyce Copy Share Image
Mr Leopold Bloom ate with relish the inner organs of beasts and fowls. He liked thick giblet soup, nutty gizzards, a stuffed… — James Joyce Copy Share Image
And if he had judged her harshly? If her life were a simple rosary of hours, her life simple and strange as… — James Joyce Copy Share Image
His heart danced upon her movements like a cork upon a tide. He heard what her eyes said to him from beneath… — James Joyce Copy Share Image
I asked him with my eyes to ask again yes and then he asked me would I yes to say yes my… — James Joyce Copy Share Image
For myself, I always write about Dublin, because if I can get to the heart of Dublin I can get to the… — James Joyce Copy Share Image
Her name sprang to my lips at moments in strange prayers and praises which I myself did not understand. My eyes were… — James Joyce Copy Share Image
Then Nuvoletta reflected for the last time in her little long life and she made up all her myriads of drifting minds… — James Joyce Copy Share Image
“And yet and yet! That strained look on her face! A gnawing sorrow is there all the time. Her very soul is… — James Joyce Copy Share Image
Under cover of her silence he pressed her arm closely to his side; and, as they stood at the hotel door, he… — James Joyce Copy Share Image
He found in the world without as actual what was in his world within as possible. — James Joyce Copy Share
Our civilization, bequeathed to us by fierce adventurers, eaters of meat and hunters, is so full of hurry and combat, so busy about many… — James Joyce Copy Share
Shaw's works make me admire the magnificent tolerance and broadmindedness of the english. — James Joyce Copy Share
“Do you know what Ireland is?' asked Stephen with cold violence. 'Ireland is the old sow that eats her farrow.” — James Joyce Copy Share
The studious silence of the library ... Thought is the thought of thought. Tranquil brightness. — James Joyce Copy Share
“two cronies drank to the memory of their past. An abyss of fortune or of temperament sundered him from them. His mind seemed older… — James Joyce Copy Share
He passes, struck by the stare of truculent Wellington but in the convex mirror grin unstruck the bonham eyes and fatchuck cheekchops of Jollypoldy… — James Joyce Copy Share
I hear the ruin of all space, shattered glass and toppled masonry, and time one livid final flame. — James Joyce Copy Share
In woman's womb word is made flesh but in the spirit of the maker all flesh that passes becomes the word that shall not… — James Joyce Copy Share
Though people may read more into Ulysses than I ever intended, who is to say that they are wrong: do any of us know… — James Joyce Copy Share
