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I'll tickle his catastrophe.

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
Tickle
Catastrophe

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I am a worker, a tombstone mason, anxious to pleace averyburies and jully glad when Christmas comes his once ayear.
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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 mouth can be better engaged than with a cylinder of rank weed.
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This race and this country and this life produced me, he said. I shall express myself as I am.
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Let my country die for me.
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Stately, plump Buck Mulligan came from the stairhead, bearing a bowl of lather on which a mirror and a razor lay crossed. A yellow dressinggown, ungirdled, was sustained gently behind him by the mild morning air. He held the bowl aloft and intoned: ----Introibo ad altare Dei.
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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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Men are governed by lines of intellect - women: by curves of emotion.
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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.
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British Beatitudes! ... Beer, beef, business, bibles, bulldogs, battleships, buggery and bishops.
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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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What was after the universe? Nothing. But was there anything round the universe to show where it stopped before the nothing place began?
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The incompatibility of aquacity with the erratic originality of genius.
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White wine is like electricity. Red wine looks and tastes like a liquified beefsteak.
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Under cover of her silence he pressed her arm closely to his side and, as they stood at the hotel door, he felt that they had escaped from their lives and duties, escaped from home and friends and run away together with wild and radiant hearts to a new adventure.
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Quotation marks quotato marks! Bah!
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Frequent and violent temptations were a proof that the citadel of the soul had not fallen and that the devil raged to make it fall.
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I am proud to be an emotionalist.
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People trample over flowers, yet only to embrace a cactus.
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What? Corpus. Body. Corpse. Good idea the Latin. Stupifies them first. Hospice for the dying. They don't seem to chew it only swallow it down.
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