“The artist, like the God of creation, remains within or behind or beyond or above his handiwork, invisible, refined out of existence,… — James Joyce Copy Share Image
“God and religion before every thing!' Dante cried. 'God and religion before the world.' Mr Casey raised his clenched fist and brought… — James Joyce Copy Share Image
A certain pride, a certain awe, withheld him from offering to God even one prayer at night, though he knew it was… — James Joyce Copy Share Image
“Come on, you winefizzling, ginsizzling, booseguzzling existences! Come on, you dog-gone, bullnecked, beetlebrowed, hogjowled, peanutbrained, weaseleyed fourflushers, false alarms and excess baggage!… — James Joyce Copy Share Image
And Jesus was a Jew too. Your god. He was a Jew like me. And so was his father. — 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
He comes into the world God knows how, walks on the water, gets out of his grave and goes up off the… — James Joyce Copy Share Image
“But he could no longer disbelieve in the reality of love, since God Himself had loved his individual soul with divine love… — James Joyce Copy Share Image
“What was after the universe? Nothing. But was there anything round the universe to show where it stopped before the nothing place… — James Joyce Copy Share Image
Stephen jerked his thumb towards the window, saying: — That is God. Hooray! Ay! Whrrwhee! — What? Mr Deasy asked. — A… — 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
