History, Stephen said, is a nightmare from which I am trying to awake. — James Joyce Copy Share Image
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
“Oblige me by taking away that knife. I can't look at the point of it. It reminds me of Roman history.” — 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
“The great fact emerges that after that historic date all holographs so far exhumed initialled by Haromphrey bear the sigla H.C.E. and… — James Joyce Copy Share Image
My intention was to write a chapter of the moral history of my country and I chose Dublin for the scene because… — James Joyce Copy Share Image
“Force, hatred, history, all that. That’s not life for men and women, insult and hatred. And everybody knows that it’s the very… — James Joyce Copy Share Image
Poetry, even when apparently most fantastic, is always a revolt against artifice, a revolt, in a sense, against actuality. It speaks of… — 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
