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Beware the horns of a bull, the heels of the horse, and the smile of an Englishman.
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
Beware
Heels
Smile
Horse
Englishman
Bull
Englishmen
Bulls
Horns
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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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Love between man and man is impossible because there must not be sexual intercourse and friendship between man and woman is impossible because there must be sexual intercourse.
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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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So you need hardly spell me how every word will be bound over to carry three score and ten toptypsical readings throughout the book of Doublends Jined.
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An improper art aims at exciting in the way of comedy the feeling of desire but the feeling which is proper to comic art is the feeling of joy.
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But my body was like a harp and her words and gestures were like fingers running upon the wires.
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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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I want to give a picture of Dublin so complete that if the city suddenly disappeared from the earth it could be reconstructed out of my book.
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Life is the great teacher.
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O, dread and dire word. Eternity! What mind of man can understand it?
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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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...rapid motion through space elates one.
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The mouth can be better engaged than with a cylinder of rank weed.
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Stately, plump Buck Mulligan came from the stairhead, bearing a bowl of lather on which a mirror and a razor lay crossed.
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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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Lord, heap miseries upon us yet entwine our arts with laughters low.
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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.
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Deal with him, Hemingway!
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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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Let my country die for me.
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