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I'd love to have the whole place swimming in roses
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
Rose
Place
Whole
Love
Roses
Swimming
More quotes by James Joyce
When one reads these strange pages of one long gone one feels that one is at one with one who once.
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There is not past, no future everything flows in an eternal present.
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Though people may read more into Ulysses than I ever intended, who is to say that they are wrong: do any of us know what we are creating?Which of us can control our scribblings? They are the script of one's personality like your voice or your walk
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I am, a stride at a time. A very short space of time through very short time of space.
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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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Phall if you but will, rise you must: and none so soon either shall the pharce for the nunce come to a setdown secular phoenish.
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The demand that I make of my reader is that he should devote his whole Life to reading my works.
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He thought that he was sick in his heart if you could be sick in that place.
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People trample over flowers, yet only to embrace a cactus.
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Love me. Love my umbrella.
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I'll tickle his catastrophe.
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Better pass boldly into that other world, in the full glory of some passion, than fade and wither dismally with age.
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My intention was to write a chapter of the moral history of my country and I chose Dublin for the scene because that city seemed to me the centre of paralysis.
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Too excited to be genuinely happy
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Fall if you will, but rise you must.
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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 don't mean to presume to dictate to you in the slightest degree but why did you leave your father's house? MTo seek misfortune, was Stephen's answer.
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The sacred pint alone can unbind the tongue.
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And the first till last alshemist wrote over every square inch of the only foolscap available, his own body, till by its corrosive sublimation one continuous present tense integument slowly unfolded all marryvoising moodmoulded cyclewheeling history.
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Alone, what did Bloom feel? The cold of interstellar space, thousands of degrees below freezing point or the absolute zero of Fahrenheit, Centigrade or RĂ©aumur: the incipient intimations of proximate dawn.
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