Read your own obituary notice; they say you live longer. Gives you second wind. New lease of life. — James Joyce Copy Share Image
“It surprised him to see that the play which he had known at rehearsals for a disjointed lifeless thing had suddenly assumed… — 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
Welcome, O life! I go to encounter for the millionth time the reality of experience and to forge in the smithy of… — James Joyce Copy Share Image
“Amen.So be it. Welcome, O life! I go to encounter for the millionth time the reality of experience and to forge in… — James Joyce Copy Share Image
[A writer is] a priest of eternal imagination, transmuting the daily bread of experience into the radiant body of everliving life. — 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
“I had hardly any patience with the serious work of life which, now that it stood between me and my desire, seemed… — 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
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
“He was alone. He was unheeded, happy, and near to the wild heart of life. He was alone and young and wilful… — James Joyce Copy Share Image
And if he had judged her harshly? If her life were a simple rosary of hours, her life simple and strange as… — James Joyce Copy Share Image
He lived at a little distance from his body, regarding his own acts with doubtful side-glances. He had an odd autobiographical habit… — James Joyce Copy Share Image
His heart danced upon her movements like a cork upon a tide. He heard what her eyes said to him from beneath… — James Joyce Copy Share Image
The supreme question about a work of art is out of how deep a life does it spring. Paintings of Moreau are… — James Joyce Copy Share Image
“To live, to err, to fall, to triumph, to recreate life out of life. A wild angel appeared to him, the angel… — 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
“Look here, Cranly, he said. You have asked me what I would do and what I would not do. I will tell… — 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
“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
“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
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
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
Like the tender fires of stars moments of their life together, that no one knew of or would ever know of, broke… — 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
“Life seemed to him a gift; the statement ‘I am alive’ seemed to him to contain a satisfactory certainty and many other… — James Joyce Copy Share Image
To discover the mode of life or of art whereby my spirit could express itself in unfettered freedom. — 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
By his monstrous way of life he seemed to have put himself beyond the limits of reality. Nothing moved him or spoke… — 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
“He lived his spiritual life without any communion with others, visiting his relatives at Christmas and escorting them to the cemetery when… — James Joyce Copy Share Image
“His heart danced upon her movements like a cork upon a tide. He heard what her eyes said to him from beneath… — James Joyce Copy Share Image
“Like the tender fire of stars moments of their life together, that no one knew of or would ever know of, broke… — James Joyce Copy Share Image
“But the surest sign that his confession had been good and that he had had sincere sorrow for his sin was, he… — James Joyce Copy Share Image
“Well, Tommy, he said, I wish you and yours every joy in life, old chap, and tons of money, and may you… — James Joyce Copy Share Image
A wild angel had appeared to him, the angel of mortal youth and beauty, an envoy from the fair courts of life,… — James Joyce Copy Share Image
Some people believe that we go on living in another body after death, that we lived before. They call it reincarnation. That… — James Joyce Copy Share Image
“You have asked me what I would do and what I would not do. I will not serve that in which I… — 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
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
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