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We were always loyal to lost causes...Success for us is the death of the intellect and of the imagination. ~ Professor MacHugh

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
Death
Professor
Always
Professors
Loyal
Intellect
Imagination
Causes
Success
Lost

More quotes by James Joyce

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Tenors get women by the score.
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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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She respected her husband in the same way as she respected the General Post Office, as something large, secure and fixed: and though she knew the small number of his talents she appreciated his abstract value as a male.
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There is not past, no future everything flows in an eternal present.
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Does nobody understand?
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In the particular is contained the universal.
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Sentimentality is unearned emotion.
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A man's errors are his portals of discovery.
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and yet her name was like a summons to all my foolish blood.
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I am proud to be an emotionalist.
James Joyce
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White pudding and eggs and sausages and cups of tea! How simple and beautiful was life after all!
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Full many a flower is born to blush unseen.
James Joyce
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His heart danced upon her movements like a cork upon a tide. He heard what her eyes said to him from beneath their cowl and knew that in some dim past, whether in life or revery, he had heard their tale before.
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No one would think he'd make such a beautiful corpse.
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We are all born in the same way but we all die in different ways.
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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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White wine is like electricity. Red wine looks and tastes like a liquified beefsteak.
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Every life is in many days, day after day. We walk through ourselves, meeting robbers, ghosts, giants, old men, young men, wives, widows, brothers-in-love. But always meeting ourselves.
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Once upon a time and a very good time it was there was a moocow coming down along the road and this moocow that was coming down along the road met a nicens little boy named baby tuckoo
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I am a worker, a tombstone mason, anxious to pleace averyburies and jully glad when Christmas comes his once ayear.
James Joyce