Quotes from James Joyce

execrations

Art, said Stephen, is the human disposition of sensible or intelligible matter for an esthetic end.

His Eminence Michael cardinal Logue, archbishop of Armagh, primate of all Ireland, His Grace, the most reverend Dr William Alexander, archbishop of Armagh, primate of all Ireland, the chief rabbi, the presbyterian moderator, the heads of the baptist, anabaptist, methodist and Moravian chapels and the honorary secretary of the society of friends.

God, these bloody English! Bursting with money and indigestion. Because he comes from Oxford. You

I admire the mind of man independent of all religions.

their tunics bloodbright in a lampglow, black sockets of caps on their blond cropped polls.

You die for your country... I say: Let my country die for me. Up to the present it has done so. I didn't want it to die. Damn death. Long live life.

supererogation.

Dac? cineva-È™i închipuie c? nu sunt divin Nu-i mai dau de b?ut când mai fac vin, Ap? s? bea, dar s? È™tie c? nu-i ap? chioar?, Ci-i apa pe care o fac eu când d? vinul din mine afar?.

The fall (bababadalgharaghtakamminarronnkonnbronntonner-ronntuonnthunntrovarrhounawnskawntoohoohoordenenthur — nuk!) of a once wallstrait oldparr is retaled early in bed and later on life down through all christian minstrelsy.

Life is many days. This will end.

The feelings excited by improper art are kinetic, desire or loathing. Desire urges us to posses, to go to something; loathing urges us to abandon, to go from something. These are kinetic emotions. The arts which excite them, pornographical or didactic, are therefore improper arts. The esthetic emotion (I use the general term) is therefore static. The mind is arrested and raised above desire and loathing.

excrementitious intelligence...

He doesn't know what he's saying. Taking a little more than is good for him. Absinthe, the greeneyed monster. I know him. He's a gentleman, a poet. It's alright.

Don't mope over it all day, he said. I'm inconsequent. Give up the moody brooding.

He addle liddle phifie Annie ugged the little craythur.

La gente aguantaba que les mordiera un lobo pero lo que verdaderamente les sacaba de quicio era que les mordiera una oveja.

Sexcaliber hrosspower.

He had an odd autobiographical habit which led him to compose in his mind from time to time a short sentence about himself containing a subject in the third person and a verb in the past tense.

Hastan the vista! Or in alleman: Suck at! — Suck it yourself, sugarstick!

He saw them three by three, approaching girls, in green, in rose, in russet, entwining, per l'aer perso, in mauve, in purple, quella pacifica oriafiamma, gold of oriflamme, di rimirar fè più ardenti. But I old men, penitent, leadenfooted, underdarkneath the night: mouth south: tomb womb.

Shize? I should shee! Macool, Macool, orra whyi deed ye diie? of a trying thirstay mournin? Sobs they sighdid at Fillagain's chrissormiss wake, all the hoolivans of the nation, prostrated in their consternation and their duodisimally profusive plethora of ululation. There was plumbs and grumes and cheriffs and citherers and raiders and cinemen too. And the all gianed in with the shout-most shoviality. Agog and magog and the round of them agrog.

Three quarks for Muster Mark! Sure he hasn't got much of a bark And sure any he has it's all beside the mark.

It filled me with fear, and yet I longed to be nearer to it and to look upon its deadly work.