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People trample over flowers, yet only to embrace a cactus.

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
Cactus
Trample
Flowers
Embrace
Flower
People

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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.
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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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Full many a flower is born to blush unseen.
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Love loves to love love.
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Good puzzle would be cross Dublin without passing a pub.
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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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A way a lone a last a loved a long the riverrun, past Eve and Adam's, from swerve of shore to bend of bay, brings us by a commodius vicus of recirculation back to Howth Castle and Environs.
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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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The studious silence of the library ... Thought is the thought of thought. Tranquil brightness.
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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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All human history moves towards one great goal
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They lived and laughed and loved and left.
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There was no doubt about it: if you wanted to succeed you had to go away. You could do nothing in Dublin.
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and yet her name was like a summons to all my foolish blood.
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British Beatitudes! ... Beer, beef, business, bibles, bulldogs, battleships, buggery and bishops.
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My heart is quite calm now. I will go back.
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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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His heart danced upon her movements like a cork upon a tide. He heard what her eyes said to him from beneath their cowl and knew that in some dim past, whether in life or revery, he had heard their tale before.
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To live, to err, to fall, to triumph, to recreate life out of life.
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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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