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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
Lost
Death
Professor
Always
Professors
Loyal
Intellect
Imagination
Causes
Success

More quotes by James Joyce

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They lived and laughed and loved and left.
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Does nobody understand?
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A nation is the same people living in the same place.
James Joyce
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When a man is born...there are nets flung at it to hold it back from flight. You talk to me of nationality, language, religion. I shall try to fly by those nets.
James Joyce
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So you need hardly spell me how every word will be bound over to carry three score and ten toptypsical readings throughout the book of Doublends Jined.
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There is not past, no future everything flows in an eternal present.
James Joyce
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No pen, no ink, no table, no room, no time, no quiet, no inclination.
James Joyce
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A man's errors are his portals of discovery.
James Joyce
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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.
James Joyce
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People could put up with being bitten by a wolf but what properly riled them was a bite from a sheep.
James Joyce
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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 pass away. This is the postcreation.
James Joyce
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You behold in me, Stephen said with grim displeasure, a horrible example of free thought.
James Joyce
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All human history moves towards one great goal
James Joyce
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Old father, old artificer, stand me now and ever in good stead.
James Joyce
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I desire to press in my arms the loveliness which has not yet come into the world.
James Joyce
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Love loves to love love.
James Joyce
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Though people may read more into Ulysses than I ever intended, who is to say that they are wrong: do any of us know what we are creating?Which of us can control our scribblings? They are the script of one's personality like your voice or your walk
James Joyce
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Each lost soul will be a hell unto itself, the boundless fire raging in its very vitals.
James Joyce
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White pudding and eggs and sausages and cups of tea! How simple and beautiful was life after all!
James Joyce
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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.
James Joyce