Quote

He drew forth a phrase from his treasure and spoke it softly to himself: A day of dappled seaborne clouds.

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
Phrases
Treasure
Forth
Dappled
Clouds
Softly
Drew
Phrase
Spokes
Spoke

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A way a lone a last a loved a long the riverrun, past Eve and Adam's, from swerve of shore to bend of bay, brings us by a commodius vicus of recirculation back to Howth Castle and Environs.
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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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His soul swooned slowly as he heard the snow falling faintly through the universe and faintly falling, like the descent of their last end, upon all the living and the dead.
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Ask no questions and you'll hear no lies.
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A woman loses a charm with every pin she takes out.
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He passes, struck by the stare of truculent Wellington but in the convex mirror grin unstruck the bonham eyes and fatchuck cheekchops of Jollypoldy the rixdix doldy.
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He thought that he was sick in his heart if you could be sick in that place.
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An improper art aims at exciting in the way of comedy the feeling of desire but the feeling which is proper to comic art is the feeling of joy.
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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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My intention was to write a chapter of the moral history of my country and I chose Dublin for the scene because that city seemed to me the centre of paralysis.
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Can't bring back time. Like holding water in your hand.
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When I heard the word ''stream'' uttered with such a revolting primness, what I think of is urine and not the contemporary novel. And besides, it isn't new, it is far from the dernier cri. Shakespeare used it continually, much too much in my opinion, and there's Tristam Shandy, not to mention the Agamemnon.
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Each lost soul will be a hell unto itself, the boundless fire raging in its very vitals.
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I'll tickle his catastrophe.
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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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Better pass boldly into that other world, in the full glory of some passion, than fade and wither dismally with age.
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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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No one who has any self-respect stays in Ireland, but flees afar as though from a country that has undergone the visitation of an angered Jove.
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Tenors get women by the score.
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I think a child should be allowed to take his father's or mother's name at will on coming of age. Paternity is a legal fiction.
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