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People could put up with being bitten by a wolf but what properly riled them was a bite from a sheep.

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
Bites
Sheep
Properly
People
Riled
Bitten
Wolf
Bite

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To live, to err, to fall, to triumph, to recreate life out of life.
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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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No one would think he'd make such a beautiful corpse.
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Thought is the thought of thought.
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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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The studious silence of the library ... Thought is the thought of thought. Tranquil brightness.
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Tenors get women by the score.
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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.
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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?
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One great part of every human existence is passed in a state which cannot be rendered sensible by the use of wideawake language, cutanddry grammar and goahead plot.
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By an epiphany he meant a sudden spiritual manifestation, whether in the vulgarity of speech or of gesture or memorable phrase of the mind itself. He believed it was for the man of letters to record these epiphanies with extreme care (saving them for later use, that is), seeing that they themselves are the most delicate and evanescent of moments.
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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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O thanks be to the great God I got somebody to give me what I badly wanted to put some heart up into me youve no chances at all inthis place like you used long ago I wish somebody would write me a loveletter.
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Her lips touched his brain as they touched his lips, as though they were a vehicle of some vague speech and between them he felt an unknown and timid preasure, darker than the swoon of sin, softer than sound or odor.
James Joyce
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Life is the great teacher.
James Joyce
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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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He passes, struck by the stare of truculent Wellington but in the convex mirror grin unstruck the bonham eyes and fatchuck cheekchops of Jollypoldy the rixdix doldy.
James Joyce
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Interpretations of interpretations interpreted.
James Joyce
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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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I hear the ruin of all space, shattered glass and toppled masonry, and time one livid final flame.
James Joyce