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[...] a darkness shining in brightness which brightness could not comprehend.

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
Comprehend
Shining
Darkness
Brightness

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The studious silence of the library ... Thought is the thought of thought. Tranquil brightness.
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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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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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They lived and laughed and loved and left.
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A man's errors are his portals of discovery.
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All Moanday, Tearday, Wailsday, Thumpsday, Frightday, Shatterday.
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Love loves to love love.
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You made me confess the fears that I have. But I will tell you also what I do not fear. I do not fear to be alone or to be spurned for another or to leave whatever I have to leave. And I am not afraid to make a mistake, even a great mistake, a lifelong mistake and perhaps as long as eternity too.
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There's no police like Holmes.
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I am tomorrow, or some future day, what I establish today. I am today what I established yesterday or some previous day.
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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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I am, a stride at a time. A very short space of time through very short time of space.
James Joyce
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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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Absence, the highest form of presence.
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Welcome, O life! I go to encounter for the millionth time the reality of experience and to forge in the smithy of my soul the uncreated conscience of my race.
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For the years, he felt, had not quenched his soul, or hers.
James Joyce
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O, dread and dire word. Eternity! What mind of man can understand it?
James Joyce
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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
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This race and this country and this life produced me, he said. I shall express myself as I am.
James Joyce
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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.
James Joyce