And the first till last alshemist wrote over every square inch of the only foolscap available, his own body, till by its… — James Joyce Copy Share Image
What? Corpus. Body. Corpse. Good idea the Latin. Stupifies them first. Hospice for the dying. They don't seem to chew it; only… — James Joyce Copy Share Image
Oh Ireland my first and only love Where Christ and Caesar are hand in glove! — James Joyce Copy Share Image
First, in the history of words there is much that indicates the history of men, and in comparing the speech of to-day… — James Joyce Copy Share Image
A dim antagonism gathered force within him and darkened his mind as a cloud against her disloyalty: and when it passed, cloudlike,… — James Joyce Copy Share Image
Do you know what a pearl is and what an opal is? My soul when you came sauntering to me first through… — James Joyce Copy Share Image
The personality of the artist, at first a cry or a cadence or a mood and then a fluid, and lambent narrative,… — 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
If he had smiled why would he have smiled? To reflect that each one who enters imagines himself to be the first… — 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 Image
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 Image
Shaw's works make me admire the magnificent tolerance and broadmindedness of the english. — James Joyce Copy Share Image
“Do you know what Ireland is?' asked Stephen with cold violence. 'Ireland is the old sow that eats her farrow.” — James Joyce Copy Share Image
The studious silence of the library ... Thought is the thought of thought. Tranquil brightness. — James Joyce Copy Share Image
“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 Image
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 Image
I hear the ruin of all space, shattered glass and toppled masonry, and time one livid final flame. — James Joyce Copy Share Image
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 Image
