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I am tomorrow, or some future day, what I establish today. I am today what I established yesterday or some previous day.

James Joyce

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James Joyce
Age: 58 †
Born: 1882
Born: February 2
Died: 1941
Died: January 13
Author
Father
Journalist
Literary Critic
Novelist
Poet
Prosaist
Teacher
Writer
James Augustine Aloysius Joyce
Future
Inspirational
Previous
Today
Establish
Work
Established
Yesterday
Tomorrow
Passion
Belief

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I am, a stride at a time. A very short space of time through very short time of space.
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People trample over flowers, yet only to embrace a cactus.
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Pity is the feeling which arrests the mind in the presence of whatesoever is grave and constant in human sufferings and unites it with the human sufferer.
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The artist, like the God of the creation, remains within or behind or beyond or above his handiwork, invisible, refined out of existence, indifferent, paring his fingernails.
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Desire's wind blasts the thorntree but after it becomes from a bramblebush to be a rose upon the rood of time.
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Thought is the thought of thought.
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You behold in me, Stephen said with grim displeasure, a horrible example of free thought.
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Whatever else is unsure in this stinking dunghill of a world a mother's love is not.
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Alone, what did Bloom feel? The cold of interstellar space, thousands of degrees below freezing point or the absolute zero of Fahrenheit, Centigrade or Réaumur: the incipient intimations of proximate dawn.
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And if he had judged her harshly? If her life were a simple rosary of hours, her life simple and strange as a bird's life, gay in the morning, restless all day, tired at sundown? Her heart simple and willful as a bird's heart?
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We are all born in the same way but we all die in different ways.
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There was no doubt about it: if you wanted to succeed you had to go away. You could do nothing in Dublin.
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Wipe your glosses with what you know.
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The studious silence of the library ... Thought is the thought of thought. Tranquil brightness.
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The supreme question about a work of art is out of how deep a life does it spring.
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Satan, really, is the romantic youth of Jesus re-appearing for a moment.
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Love me. Love my umbrella.
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The sacred pint alone can unbind the tongue.
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But my body was like a harp and her words and gestures were like fingers running upon the wires.
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Old father, old artificer, stand me now and ever in good stead.
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