Quotes from James Joyce

He proves by algebra that Shakespeare's ghost is Hamlet's grandfather.

A sua alma desfalecia languidamente enquanto ele ouvia a neve cair suavemente em todo o universo e cair suavemente, como a descida do seu fim derradeiro, sobre todos os vivos e os mortos.

You don't know yet what money is. Money is power, when you have lived as long as I have. I know, I know. If youth but knew. But what does Shakespeare say? Put but money in thy purse.

O Sweetheart, hear thou Your lover's tale A man shall have sorrow When friends him fail. For he shall know then Friends be untrue And a little ashes Their words come to But one onto him Will softly move And softly woo him In ways of love. His hand is under Her smooth round breast So he who has sorrow Shall have rest.

The tiny space I occupy is so infinitely small in comparison with the rest of space, in which I am not, and which has nothing to do with me; and the period of time in which it is my lot to live is so petty beside the eternity in which I have not been, and shall not be… And

often she wondered why you couldn't eat something poetical like violets or roses

It was a distinction, my dear Dorian — a great distinction. Most people become bankrupt through having invested too heavily in the prose of life. To have ruined one's self over poetry is an honour.

When landing the J-3 Cub, the proper technique is for the tail wheel to touch the runway a millisecond before the main wheels touch. So before landing the pilot must raise the nose of the plane, which blocks his forward vision. He now must gauge his distance above the ground, and his location on the runway, by again using the side windows as he floats on down. After touching down he will again be blind to the front. After coming to a stop the back-and-forth taxiing begins again.

He had a sudden death, poor fellow, he said. — The best death, Mr Bloom said. Their wide open eyes looked at him. — No suffering, he said. A moment and all is over. Like dying in sleep.

she had even witnessed in the home circle deeds of violence caused by intemperance and had seen her own father, a prey to the fumes of intoxication, forget himself completely for if there was one thing of all things that Gerty knew it was the man who lifts his hand to a woman save in the way of kindness deserves to be branded as the lowest of the low.

Some day we shall have to choose between England and Europe.

Fourth position of solution. How johnny! Finest view from horizon. Tableau final. Two me see. Male and female unmask we hem. Begum by gunne! Who now broothes oldbrawn. Dawn! The nape of his name-shielder's scalp. Halp! After having drummed all he dun. Hun! Worked out to an inch of his core. More! Ring down. While the queenbee he staggerhorned blesses her bliss for to feel her funnyman's functions Tag. Rumbling. Tiers, tiers and tiers. Rounds.

The warmly cool, clear, ringing perfumed, overflowing, redundant days, were as crystal goblets of Persian sherbet, heaped up — flaked up, with rose-water snow.

A pier, sir, Armstrong said. A thing out in the waves. A kind of bridge. Kingstown pier, sir. Some laughed again : mirthless but with meaning. Two in the back bench whispered. Yes. They knew : had never learned nor ever been innocent. All. With envy he watched their faces. Edith, Ethel, Gerty, Lily. Their likes : their breaths, too, sweetened with tea and jam, their bracelets tittering in the struggle. — Kingstown pier, Stephen said. Yes, a disappointed bridge.

England is in the hands of the jews. In all the highest places: her finance, her press. And they are the signs of a nation's decay. Wherever they gather they eat up the nation's vital strength. I have seen it coming these years. As sure as we are standing here the jew merchants are already at their work of destruction. Old England is dying.

Although two senior Irish diplomats were in Switzerland at the time, neither attended Joyce's funeral, and the Irish government later declined Nora's offer to permit the repatriation of Joyce's remains. Nora, who had married Joyce in London in 1931, survived

That is how poets write, the similar sounds. But then Shakespeare has no rhymes: blank verse. The flow of the language it is. The thoughts. Solemn.

Benden yana olduÄŸundan sesin K?rd?m onun kalbini, Elimin içinde tuttuÄŸumdan Yeniden ellerini. Ne bir söz, ne de baÅŸka bir ÅŸey Onarabilir bunu --- Bir zamanlar dostum olan Åžimdi yabanc? bana.

These are not misprints but beauties of my style hitherto undreamt of.

Envoy: Love me, love my umbrella.

He stooped to the evil of hypocrisy with others, sceptical of their innocence which he could cajole so easily.

She never blows her nose. A form of speech: the lesser for the greater.

See now. There all the time without you: and ever shall be, world without end.

Therefore, everyman, look to that last end that is thy death and the dust [369] that gripeth on every man that is born of woman for as he came naked forth from his mother's womb so naked shall he wend him at the last for to go as he came.