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
A way a lone a last a loved a long the riverrun, past Eve and Adam's, from swerve of shore to bend… — James Joyce Copy Share Image
His soul swooned slowly as he heard the snow falling faintly through the universe and faintly falling, like the descent of their… — James Joyce Copy Share Image
The pleasures of love lasts but a fleeting but the pledges of life outlusts a lieftime. — 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
Evening had fallen. A rim of the young moon cleft the pale waste of sky line, the rim of a silver hoop… — 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
