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To discover the mode of life or of art whereby my spirit could express itself in unfettered freedom.
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
Life
Unfettered
Whereby
Mode
Discover
Express
Freedom
Spirit
Art
More quotes by James Joyce
If the Irish programme did not insist on the Irish language I suppose I could call myself a nationalist. As it is, I am content torecognize myself an exile: and, prophetically, a repudiated one.
James Joyce
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.
James Joyce
Our souls, shamewounded by our sins, cling to us yet more, a woman to her lover clinging, the more the more. She trusts me, her hand gentle, the longlashed eyes. Now where the blue hell am I bringing her beyond the veil? Into the ineluctable modality of the ineluctable visuality. She, she, she. What she?
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What kind of liberation would that be to forsake an absurdity which is logical and coherent and to embrace one which is illogical and incoherent?
James Joyce
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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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.
James Joyce
My heart is quite calm now. I will go back.
James Joyce
He drew forth a phrase from his treasure and spoke it softly to himself: A day of dappled seaborne clouds.
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History, Stephen said, is a nightmare from which I am trying to awake.
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What incensed him the most was the blatant jokes of the ones that passed it all off as a jest, pretending to understand everything and in reality not knowing their own minds.
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And if he had judged her harshly? If her life were a simple rosary of hours, her life simple and strange as a bird's life, gay in the morning, restless all day, tired at sundown? Her heart simple and willful as a bird's heart?
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Mr. Duffy lived a short distance from his body.
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The sea, the snotgreen sea, the scrotumtightening sea.
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No pen, no ink, no table, no room, no time, no quiet, no inclination.
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O cold ! O shivery ! It was your ambrosial beauty. Forget, forgive. Kismet. Let me off this once.
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What did it avail to pray when he knew his soul lusted after its own destruction?
James Joyce
The mouth can be better engaged than with a cylinder of rank weed.
James Joyce
Full many a flower is born to blush unseen.
James Joyce
Secrets, silent, stony sit in the dark palaces of both our hearts: secrets weary of their tyranny: tyrants willing to be dethroned.
James Joyce
He comes into the world God knows how, walks on the water, gets out of his grave and goes up off the Hill of Howth. What drivel is this?
James Joyce