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But my body was like a harp and her words and gestures were like fingers running upon the wires.

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
Body
Harps
Like
Wire
Gestures
Fingers
Upon
Words
Running
Wires
Beautiful
Harp

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I'll tickle his catastrophe.
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And the first till last alshemist wrote over every square inch of the only foolscap available, his own body, till by its corrosive sublimation one continuous present tense integument slowly unfolded all marryvoising moodmoulded cyclewheeling history.
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The studious silence of the library ... Thought is the thought of thought. Tranquil brightness.
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You behold in me, Stephen said with grim displeasure, a horrible example of free thought.
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[A writer is] a priest of eternal imagination, transmuting the daily bread of experience into the radiant body of everliving life.
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Winds of May, that dance on the sea, Dancing a ring-around in glee From furrow to furrow, while overhead The foam flies up to be garlanded, In silvery arches spanning the air, Saw you my true love anywhere? Welladay! Welladay! For the winds of May! Love is unhappy when love is away!
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The movements which work revolutions in the world are born out of the dreams and visions in a peasant's heart on the hillside.
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Shut your eyes and see.
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Men are governed by lines of intellect - women: by curves of emotion.
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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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As you are now so once were we.
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