I fear those big words, Stephen said, which make us so unhappy. James Joyce More Quotes by James Joyce More Quotes From James Joyce The intellectual imagination! With me all or not at all. NON SERVIAM! James Joyce intellectual imagination I have left my book, I have left my room, For I heard you singing Through the gloom. James Joyce singing book rooms 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 James Joyce creating voice people The personality of the artist, at first a cry or a cadence or a mood and then a fluid, and lambent narrative, finally refines itself out of existence, impersonalises itself, so to speak. The aesthetic image in the dramatic form is life purified in and reprojected from the human imagination. The mystery of aesthetic like that of material creation is accomplished. The artist, like the God of the creation, remains within or behind or beyond or above his handiwork, invisible, refined out of existence, indifferent, paring his fingernails. James Joyce imagination god art I want to give a picture of Dublin so complete that if the city suddenly disappeared from the earth it could be reconstructed out of my book. James Joyce cities giving book Tenors get women by the score. James Joyce score tenors Redheaded women buck like goats. James Joyce goats bucks Poetry, even when apparently most fantastic, is always a revolt against artifice, a revolt, in a sense, against actuality. It speaks of what seems fantastic and unreal to those who have lost the simple intuitions which are the test of reality; and, as it is often found at war with its age, so it makes no account of history, which is fabled by the daughters of memory. James Joyce daughter memories war The light music of whiskey falling into glasses made an agreeable interlude. James Joyce scotch glasses fall When the Irishman is found outside of Ireland in another environment, he very often becomes a respected man. The economic and intellectual conditions that prevail in his own country do not permit the development of individuality. 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. James Joyce self men country Very gratefully, with grateful appreciation, with sincere appreciative gratitude, in appreciatively grateful sincerity of regret, he declined. James Joyce gratitude regret appreciation Poetry, even when apparently most fantastic, is always a revolt against artifice, a revolt, in a sense, against actuality. James Joyce revolt fantastic writing Every jackass going the roads thinks he has ideas. James Joyce jackasses ideas thinking Saying that a great genius is mad, while at the same time recognizing his artistic worth, is like saying that he had rheumatism or suffered from diabetes. Madness, in fact, is a medical term that can claim no more notice from the objective critic than he grants the charge of heresy raised by the theologian, or the charge of immorality raised by the police. James Joyce mad police genius Time's ruins build eternity's mansions. James Joyce ruins eternity time What's in a name? That is what we ask ourselves in childhood when we write the name that we are told is ours. James Joyce childhood names writing Stately, plump Buck Mulligan came from the stairhead, bearing a bowl of lather on which a mirror and a razor lay crossed. James Joyce bucks razors mirrors I wanted real adventures to happen to myself. But real adventures, I reflected, do not happen to people who remain at home: they must be sought abroad. James Joyce real home adventure God made food; the devil the cooks. James Joyce cooks devil made My eyes were often full of tears (I could not tell why) and at times a flood from my heart seemed to pour itself out. James Joyce tears eye heart
