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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.
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
Upon
Movements
Eye
Beneath
Past
Tales
Heart
Movement
Cork
Life
Knew
Danced
Like
Heard
Tide
Eyes
Tides
Whether
Tale
More quotes by James Joyce
When the soul of a man is born in this country there are nets flown at it to hold it back from flight.
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Love me. Love my umbrella.
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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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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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Very gratefully, with grateful appreciation, with sincere appreciative gratitude, in appreciatively grateful sincerity of regret, he declined.
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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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I did not know whether I would ever speak to her or not or, if I spoke to her, how I could tell her of my confused adoration. But my body was like a harp and her words and gestures were like fingers running upon the wires.
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Your battles inspired me - not the obvious material battles but those that were fought and won behind your forehead.
James Joyce
And when all was said and done the lies a fellow told about himself couldn't probably hold a proverbial candle to the wholesale whoppers other fellows coined about him.
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Love (understood as the desire of good for another) is in fact so unnatural a phenomenon that it can scarcely repeat itself the soul being unable to become virgin again and not having energy enough to cast itself out again into the ocean of another s soul.
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Life is the great teacher.
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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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I care not if I live but a day and a night, so long as my deeds live after me.
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His heart danced upon her movement like a cork upon a tide.
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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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Wipe your glosses with what you know.
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There's no police like Holmes.
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[...] a darkness shining in brightness which brightness could not comprehend.
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The sacred pint alone can unbind the tongue.
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British Beatitudes! ... Beer, beef, business, bibles, bulldogs, battleships, buggery and bishops.
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