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Full many a flower is born to blush unseen.

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
Unseen
Gray
Flower
Full
Born
Elegy
Many
Blush
Obscurity
Sweetness

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Love, yes. Word known to all men.
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A certain pride, a certain awe, withheld him from offering to God even one prayer at night, though he knew it was in God's power to take away his life while he slept and hurl his soul hellward ere he could beg for mercy.
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Each lost soul will be a hell unto itself, the boundless fire raging in its very vitals.
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No pen, no ink, no table, no room, no time, no quiet, no inclination.
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Deal with him, Hemingway!
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The sacred pint alone can unbind the tongue.
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When I makes tea I makes tea, as old mother Grogan said. And when I makes water I makes water.
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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.
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There's many a true word spoken in jest.
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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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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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Alone, what did Bloom feel? The cold of interstellar space, thousands of degrees below freezing point or the absolute zero of Fahrenheit, Centigrade or Réaumur: the incipient intimations of proximate dawn.
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and yet her name was like a summons to all my foolish blood.
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Broken heart. A pump after all, pumping thousands of gallons of blood every day. One fine day it gets bunged up and there you are... Old rusty pumps: damn the thing else. The resurrection and the life. Once you are dead you are dead.
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Hold to the now, the here, through which all future plunges to the past.
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I'll tickle his catastrophe.
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Absence, the highest form of presence.
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What did it avail to pray when he knew his soul lusted after its own destruction?
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She respected her husband in the same way as she respected the General Post Office, as something large, secure and fixed: and though she knew the small number of his talents she appreciated his abstract value as a male.
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Redheaded women buck like goats.
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