The studious silence of the library ... Thought is the thought of thought. Tranquil brightness. — 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
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
The voices blend and fuse in clouded silence: silence that is infinite of space: and swiftly, silently the sound is wafted over… — James Joyce Copy Share Image
Under cover of her silence he pressed her arm closely to his side; and, as they stood at the hotel door, he… — James Joyce Copy Share Image
“Some undefined sorrow was hidden in the hearts of the protagonists as they stood in silence beneath the leafless trees and when… — James Joyce Copy Share Image
“In the soft grey silence he could hear the bump of the balls: and from here and from there through the quiet… — 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
