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There's many a true word spoken in jest.

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
Jest
Spoken
Word
True
Truth
Many

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Wipe your glosses with what you know.
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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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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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What? Corpus. Body. Corpse. Good idea the Latin. Stupifies them first. Hospice for the dying. They don't seem to chew it only swallow it down.
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The mouth can be better engaged than with a cylinder of rank weed.
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A man's errors are his portals of discovery.
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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 am, a stride at a time. A very short space of time through very short time of space.
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No one who has any self-respect stays in Ireland, but flees afar as though from a country that has undergone the visitation of an angered Jove.
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Hold to the now, the here, through which all future plunges to the past.
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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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The studious silence of the library ... Thought is the thought of thought. Tranquil brightness.
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Beware the horns of a bull, the heels of the horse, and the smile of an Englishman.
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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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Stephen jerked his thumb towards the window, saying: — That is God. Hooray! Ay! Whrrwhee! — What? Mr Deasy asked. — A shout in the street, Stephen answered, shrugging his shoulders.
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If Ireland is to become a new Ireland she must first become European.
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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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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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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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What incensed him the most was the blatant jokes of the ones that passed it all off as a jest, pretending to understand everything and in reality not knowing their own minds.
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