“two cronies drank to the memory of their past. An abyss of fortune or of temperament sundered him from them. His mind… — James Joyce Copy Share Image
“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
“He had neither companions nor friends, church nor creed. He lived his spiritual life without any communion with others, visiting his relatives… — James Joyce Copy Share Image
“It was hard work-a hard life-but now that she was about to leave it she did not find it a wholly undesirable… — James Joyce Copy Share Image
It soared, a bird, it held its flight, a swift pure cry, soar silver orb it leaped serene, speeding, sustained, to come,… — James Joyce Copy Share Image
Her image had passed into his soul for ever and no word had broken the holy silence of his ecstasy. Her eyes… — James Joyce Copy Share Image
The supreme question about a work of art is out of how deep a life does it spring. — James Joyce Copy Share Image
“You have asked me what I would do and what I would not do. I will tell you what I will do… — James Joyce Copy Share Image
The demand that I make of my reader is that he should devote his whole Life to reading my works. — James Joyce Copy Share Image
“He had not died but he had faded out like a film in the sun. He had been lost or had wandered… — James Joyce Copy Share Image
I will tell you what I will do and what I will not do. I will not serve that in which I… — James Joyce Copy Share Image
“I wish you and yours every joy in life, old chap, and tons of money, and may you never die till I… — James Joyce Copy Share Image
“You have asked me what I would do and what I would not do. I will tell you what I will do… — 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 esthetic image in the dramatic form is life purified in and reprojected from the human imagination. The mystery of esthetic, like… — James Joyce Copy Share Image
This race and this country and this life produced me, he said. I shall express myself as I am. — James Joyce Copy Share Image
The philosophic mind inclines always to an elaborate life--the life of Goethe or of Leonardo da Vinci; but the life of the… — James Joyce Copy Share Image
“His life would be lonely too until he, too, died, ceased to exist, became a memory - if anyone remembered him.” — 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
One great part of every human existence is passed in a state which cannot be rendered sensible by the use of wideawake… — James Joyce Copy Share Image
Moments of their secret life together burst like stars upon his memory. — 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
