“A world, a glimmer or a flower? Glimmering and trembling, trembling and unfolding, a breaking light, an opening flower, it spread in… — James Joyce Copy Share Image
“I was a Flower of the mountain yes when I put the rose in my hair like the Andalusian girls used or… — James Joyce Copy Share Image
“But you could not have a green rose. But perhaps somewhere in the world you could.” — James Joyce Copy Share Image
“ah yes I know them well who was the first person in the universe before there was anybody that made it all… — James Joyce Copy Share Image
“White roses and red roses: those were beautiful colours to think of. And the cards for first place and second place and… — James Joyce Copy Share Image
Desire's wind blasts the thorntree but after it becomes from a bramblebush to be a rose upon the rood of time. — James Joyce Copy Share Image
Alone, what did Bloom feel? The cold of interstellar space, thousands of degrees below freezing point or the absolute zero of Fahrenheit,… — 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
