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Beauty, the splendour of truth, is a gracious presence when the imagination contemplates intensely the truth of its own being or the visible world, and the spirit which proceeds out of truth and beauty is the holy spirit of joy. These are realities and these alone give and sustain 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
Truth
Presence
Splendour
Give
Holy
Proceeds
Giving
Joy
Intensely
Life
Imagination
Gracious
World
Alone
Sustain
Beauty
Realities
Spirit
Contemplating
Reality
Visible
Contemplates

More quotes by James Joyce

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A man's errors are his portals of discovery.
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Love, yes. Word known to all men.
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For myself, I always write about Dublin, because if I can get to the heart of Dublin I can get to the heart of all the cities of the world. In the particular is contained the universal.
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My heart is quite calm now. I will go back.
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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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A nation is the same people living in the same place.
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The supreme question about a work of art is out of how deep a life does it spring.
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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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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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Thought is the thought of thought.
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History, Stephen said, is a nightmare from which I am trying to awake.
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It is a symbol of Irish art. The cracked looking-glass of a servant.
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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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People trample over flowers, yet only to embrace a cactus.
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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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Gentle lady, do not sing Sad songs about the end of love Lay aside sadness and sing How love that passes is enough. Sing about the long deep sleep Of lovers that are dead, and how In the grave all love shall sleep: Love is aweary now.
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What did it avail to pray when he knew his soul lusted after its own destruction?
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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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History is that nightmare from which there is no awakening.
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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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