Time is, time was, but time shall be no more. James Joyce More Quotes by James Joyce More Quotes From James Joyce 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. James Joyce soultemptationfall No one would think he'd make such a beautiful corpse. James Joyce corpsesbeautifulthinking Desire's wind blasts the thorntree but after it becomes from a bramblebush to be a rose upon the rood of time. James Joyce desirerosewind And the first till last alshemist wrote over every square inch of the only foolscap available, his own body, till by its corrosive sublimation one continuous present tense integument slowly unfolded all marryvoising moodmoulded cyclewheeling history. James Joyce lastssquaresbody Love (understood as the desire of good for another) is in fact so unnatural a phenomenon that it can scarcely repeat itself the soul being unable to become virgin again and not having energy enough to cast itself out again into the ocean of another s soul. James Joyce oceanlovelife It seems to me you do not care what banality a man expresses so long as he expresses it in Irish. James Joyce caremenlong My intention was to write a chapter of the moral history of my country and I chose Dublin for the scene because that city seemed to me the centre of paralysis. James Joyce writingmencountry Always see a fellows weak point in his wife. James Joyce weak-pointswifeweak A Classical style... is the syllogism of art, the only legitimate process from one world to another. Classicism is not the manner of any fixed age or of any fixed country; it is a constant state of the artistic mind. It is a temper of security and satisfaction and patience. James Joyce stylecountryart One of the things I could never get accustomed to in my youth was the difference I found between life and literature. James Joyce youthdifferencesliterature 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. James Joyce yellowmorningbook Terence O'Ryan heard him and straightway brought him a crystal cup full of the foaming ebon ale which the noble twin brothers Bungiveagh and Bungardilaun brew ever in their divine alevats, cunning as the sons of deathless Leda. For they garner the succulent berries of the hop and mass and sift and bruise and brew them and they mix therewith sour juices and bring the must to the sacred fire and cease not night or day from their toil, those cunning brothers, lords of the vat. James Joyce brotherbeerson The Irish are people who will never have leaders, for at the great moment they always desert them. They have produced one skeleton--Parnell--never a man. James Joyce skeletonsmenpeople He thought that he was sick in his heart if you could be sick in that place. James Joyce chaossickheart If there is any difficulty in what I write, it is because of the material I use. The thought is always simple. James Joyce simpleusewriting I see the regions of snow and ice, I see the sharp-eyed Samoiede and the Finn, I see the seal-seeker in his boat poising his lance, I see the Siberian on his slight-built sledge drawn by dogs, I see the porpoise-hunters, I see the whale-crews of the south Pacific and the north Atlantic, I see the cliffs, glaciers, torrents, valleys of Switzerland - I mark the long winters and the isolation. James Joyce whalesdogwinter Signatures of all things I am here to read. James Joyce through-my-eyessignaturesall-things When I heard the word ''stream'' uttered with such a revolting primness, what I think of is urine and not the contemporary novel. And besides, it isn't new, it is far from the dernier cri. Shakespeare used it continually, much too much in my opinion, and there's Tristam Shandy, not to mention the "Agamemnon." James Joyce too-muchfictionthinking Once upon a time and a very good time it was there was a moocow coming down along the road and this moocow that was coming down along the road met a nicens little boy named baby tuckoo James Joyce once-upon-a-timebabyboys Good puzzle would be cross Dublin without passing a pub. James Joyce dublincrosseswould-be
