The light music of whiskey falling into glasses made an agreeable interlude. — James Joyce Copy Share Image
All things are inconstant except the faith in the soul, which changes all things and fills their inconstancy with light... — James Joyce Copy Share Image
The light music of whiskey falling into a glass - an agreeable interlude. — James Joyce Copy Share Image
Do you know what a pearl is and what an opal is? My soul when you came sauntering to me first through… — James Joyce Copy Share Image
He asked himself what is a woman standing on the stairs in the shadow, listening to distant music, a symbol of. If… — James Joyce Copy Share Image
What birds were they? (...) He listened to the cries: like the squeak of mice be- hind the wainscot : a shrill… — James Joyce Copy Share Image
When the soul of a man is born in this country there are nets flown at it to hold it back from… — 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
