Quotes from James Joyce

She bows her old head to a voice that

The faint sour stink of rotted cabbages came towards him from the kitchengardens on the rising ground above the river. He smiled to think that it was this disorder, the misrule and confusion of his father's house and the stagnation of vegetable life, which was to win the day in his soul.

You have fallen from a higher world, and you are filled with fierce indignation, when you find that life is cowardly and ignoble. While I…I have come up from a lower world and I am filled with astonishment when I find that people have any redeeming virtue at all.

Her soul! Her name! Her eyes! They seem to me like strange beautiful blue wild-flowers growing in some tangled, rain-drenched hedge. And I have felt her soul tremble beside mine, and have spoken her name softly to the night, and have wept to see the beauty of the world passing like a dream behind her eyes. — James Joyce, from a love letter to (of) Nora Barnacle, Selected Joyce Letters , ed. Richard Ellmann (Viking Press, 1975)

Formless spiritual. Father, Word and Holy Breath. Allfather, the heavenly man. Hiesos Kristos, magician of the beautiful, the Logos who suffers in us at every moment. This verily is that. I am the fire upon the alter. I am the sacrificial butter.

White breast of the dim sea. The twining stresses, two by two. A hand plucking the harpstrings, merging their twining chords. Wavewhite wedded words shimmering on the dim tide.

But this is the point. You die for your country, suppose. (He places his arm on Private Carr's sleeve.) Not that I wish it for you. But I say: Let my country die for me. Up to the present it has done so. I don't want it to die. Damn death. Long live life!

In paradisum. Said he was going to paradise or is in paradise. Says that over everybody. Tiresome kind of a job. But he has to say something.

Every Bond is a Bond to Sorrow

wounds tingle most when they are about to heal.

Rhythm begins, you see. I hear. A catalectic tetrameter of iambs march ing.

It is as painful perhaps to be awakened from a vision as to be born. Any object, intensely regarded, may be a gate of access to the incorruptible eon of the gods.

The bright stars fade. A voiceless song sang from within, singing: the morn is breaking.

But when he had sung his song and withdrawn into a snug corner of the room he began to taste the joy of his loneliness.

perfume of embraces all him assailed with hungered flesh obscurely he mutely craved to adore

Everybody gets their own ration of luck, they say.

O asla sümkürmez. Bir anlat?m biçimi bu:az ve öz.

Don't know what poetry is even. Must be in a certain mood.

write for the noblest end, to inform and instruct mankind; over whom I may, without breach of modesty, pretend to some superiority, from the advantages I received by conversing so long among the

Tütüncüden d??ar? f?rlay?p ad?yla sesleniyorum. Dönüyor ve benden dersler, saatler, dersler, saatler boyu dinlediÄŸi karmakar???k sözcükleri duymak için duruyor: solgun yanaklar? yal?ml? bir opal ?????yla yavaÅŸça pembeleÅŸiyor. Yo, yo, korkma!

by teaching us the first principles of honour, justice, truth, temperance, public spirit, fortitude, chastity, friendship, benevolence, and fidelity.  The names of all which virtues

He gives up the ghost. A violent erection of the hanged sends gouts of sperm spouting through his death clothes on to the cobblestones. Mrs Bellingham, Mrs Yelverton Barry and the Honourable Mrs Mervy Talboys rush forward with their handkerchiefs to sop it up.)

Ah, furchte fruchte, timid Danaides! Ena milo melomon, frai is frau and swee is too, swee is two when swoo is free, ana mala woe is we! A pair of sycopanties with amygdaleine eyes, one old obster lumpky pumpkin and three meddlars on their slies.

My love she's handsome, My love she's bony: She's like good whisky When it is new; But when 'tis old And growing cold It fades and dies like The mountain dew.