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We are all born in the same way but we all die in different ways.

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
Way
Ways
Dies
Born
Death
Different

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There's no police like Holmes.
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They lived and laughed and loved and left.
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Very gratefully, with grateful appreciation, with sincere appreciative gratitude, in appreciatively grateful sincerity of regret, he declined.
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He was unheeded, happy, and near to the wild heart of life
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Love, yes. Word known to all men.
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Evening had fallen. A rim of the young moon cleft the pale waste of sky line, the rim of a silver hoop embedded in grey sand: and the tide was flowing in fast to the land with a low whisper of her waves, islanding a few last figures in distant pools.
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Satan, really, is the romantic youth of Jesus re-appearing for a moment.
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To discover the mode of life or of art whereby my spirit could express itself in unfettered freedom.
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When the soul of a man is born in this country there are nets flown at it to hold it back from flight.
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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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You forget that the kingdom of heaven suffers violence: and the kingdom of heaven is like a woman.
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Welcome, O life! I go to encounter for the millionth time the reality of experience and to forge in the smithy of my soul the uncreated conscience of my race.
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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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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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Love me. Love my umbrella.
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I'd love to have the whole place swimming in roses
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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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For the years, he felt, had not quenched his soul, or hers.
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The artist... standing in the position of mediator between the world of his experience and the world of his dreams - 'a mediator, consequently gifted with twin faculties, a selective faculty and a reproductive faculty.' To equate these faculties was the secret of artistic success.
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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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