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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.
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
Ends
Dead
Soul
Heard
Life
Lasts
Swooned
Like
Last
Faintly
Upon
Descent
Universe
Slowly
Living
Falling
Fall
Snow
More quotes by James Joyce
Ask no questions and you'll hear no lies.
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Pity is the feeling which arrests the mind in the presence of whatesoever is grave and constant in human sufferings and unites it with the human sufferer.
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The demand that I make of my reader is that he should devote his whole Life to reading my works.
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Save the trees of Ireland for the future men of Ireland on the fair hills of Eire, O.
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It seems to me you do not care what banality a man expresses so long as he expresses it in Irish.
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Too excited to be genuinely happy
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Wipe your glosses with what you know.
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Mr. Duffy lived a short distance from his body.
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He lived at a little distance from his body, regarding his own acts with doubtful side-glances. He had an odd autobiographical habit which led him to compose in his mind from time to time a short sentence about himself containing a subject in the third person and a verb in the past tense.
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Desire's wind blasts the thorntree but after it becomes from a bramblebush to be a rose upon the rood of time.
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The apprehensive faculty must be scrutinised in action.
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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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And Jesus was a Jew too. Your god. He was a Jew like me. And so was his father.
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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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The mouth can be better engaged than with a cylinder of rank weed.
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Jesus was a bachelor and never lived with a woman. Surely living with a woman is one of the most difficult things a man has to do, and he never did it.
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Beauty, the splendour of truth, is a gracious presence when the imagination contemplates intensely the truth of its own being or the visible world, and the spirit which proceeds out of truth and beauty is the holy spirit of joy. These are realities and these alone give and sustain life.
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My heart is quite calm now. I will go back.
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Stephen jerked his thumb towards the window, saying: — That is God. Hooray! Ay! Whrrwhee! — What? Mr Deasy asked. — A shout in the street, Stephen answered, shrugging his shoulders.
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