Her lips touched his brain as they touched his lips, as though they were a vehicle of some vague speech and between them he felt an unknown and timid pressure, darker than the swoon of sin, softer than sound or odor. – James Joyce, A Portrait of the Artist as a Young Man. (Penguin Classics;… Continue reading James Joyce
I was happier then. Or was that I? Or am I now I? Can’t bring back time. Like holding water in your hand. Would you go back to then? Just beginning then. Would you? — James Joyce, Ulysses. (Sylvia Beach 2 February 1922)
Her image accompanied me even in places the most hostile to romance. — James Joyce from “Araby,” Dubliners (Grant Richards Ltd., 1914)
He lived at a little distance from his body, regarding his own acts with doubtful sideglances. — James Joyce, from, “A Painful Case,” Dubliners. (Grant Richards Ltd., London June 1914)
Ruin them. Wreck their lives. Then build them cubicles to end their days in. Hushaby. Lullaby. Die, dog. Little dog, die. — James Joyce, Ulysses. (Sylvia Beach 2 February 1922)
You made me confess the fears that I have. But I will tell you also what I do not fear. I do not fear to be alone or to be spurned for another or to leave whatever I have to leave. And I am not afraid to make a mistake, even a great mistake, a… Continue reading James Joyce
First we feel. Then we fall. — James Joyce, Finnegans Wake.( Faber and Faber November 4, 2002) Originally published May 4th 1939.