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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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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
Time
Stride
Short
Space

More quotes by James Joyce

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Never let us do wrong, because our opponents did so. Let us, rather, by doing right, show them what they ought to have done, and establish a rule the dictates of reason and conscience, rather than of the angry passions.
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He could not feel her near him in the darkness nor hear her voice touch his ear. He waited for some minutes listening. He could hear nothing: the night was perfectly silent. He listened again: perfectly silent. He felt that he was alone.
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Love, yes. Word known to all men.
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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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Deal with him, Hemingway!
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He drew forth a phrase from his treasure and spoke it softly to himself: A day of dappled seaborne clouds.
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You forget that the kingdom of heaven suffers violence: and the kingdom of heaven is like a woman.
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The supreme question about a work of art is out of how deep a life does it spring.
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For the years, he felt, had not quenched his soul, or hers.
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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.
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Life is the great teacher.
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Satan, really, is the romantic youth of Jesus re-appearing for a moment.
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Old father, old artificer, stand me now and ever in good stead.
James Joyce
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The incompatibility of aquacity with the erratic originality of genius.
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In the name of Annah the Allmaziful, the Everliving, the Bringer of Plurabilities, haloed be her eve, her singtime sung, her rill be run, unhemmed as it is uneven!
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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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I could call my wandering thoughts together. I had hardly any patience with the serious work of life which, now that it stood between me and my desire, seemed to me child's play, ugly monotonous child's play.
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Christopher Columbus, as everyone knows, is honored by posterity because he was the last to discover America.
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And Jesus was a Jew too. Your god. He was a Jew like me. And so was his father.
James Joyce
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Mr. Duffy lived a short distance from his body.
James Joyce