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He was unheeded, happy, and near to the wild heart of life
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
Unheeded
Near
Wild
Scene
Happy
Beautiful
Heart
Life
More quotes by James Joyce
Pity is the feeling which arrests the mind in the presence of whatesoever is grave and constant in human sufferings and unites it with the human sufferer.
James Joyce
O thanks be to the great God I got somebody to give me what I badly wanted to put some heart up into me youve no chances at all inthis place like you used long ago I wish somebody would write me a loveletter.
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and yet her name was like a summons to all my foolish blood.
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He passes, struck by the stare of truculent Wellington but in the convex mirror grin unstruck the bonham eyes and fatchuck cheekchops of Jollypoldy the rixdix doldy.
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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.
James Joyce
Satan, really, is the romantic youth of Jesus re-appearing for a moment.
James Joyce
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?
James Joyce
Redheaded women buck like goats.
James Joyce
Frequent and violent temptations were a proof that the citadel of the soul had not fallen and that the devil raged to make it fall.
James Joyce
Full many a flower is born to blush unseen.
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Too excited to be genuinely happy
James Joyce
One great part of every human existence is passed in a state which cannot be rendered sensible by the use of wideawake language, cutanddry grammar and goahead plot.
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What did it avail to pray when he knew his soul lusted after its own destruction?
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Absence, the highest form of presence.
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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. A yellow dressinggown, ungirdled, was sustained gently behind him by the mild morning air. He held the bowl aloft and intoned: ----Introibo ad altare Dei.
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There is not past, no future everything flows in an eternal present.
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If the Irish programme did not insist on the Irish language I suppose I could call myself a nationalist. As it is, I am content torecognize myself an exile: and, prophetically, a repudiated one.
James Joyce
Secrets, silent, stony sit in the dark palaces of both our hearts: secrets weary of their tyranny: tyrants willing to be dethroned.
James Joyce
It is a symbol of Irish art. The cracked looking-glass of a servant.
James Joyce
Good puzzle would be cross Dublin without passing a pub.
James Joyce
