Quotes from James Joyce

The pleasures of love lasts but a fleeting but the pledges of life outlusts a lieftime.

Like the tender fires of stars moments of their life together, that no one knew of or would ever know of, broke upon and illuminated his memory.

Children must be educated by love, not punishment.

What's yours is mine and what's mine is my own.

I'd love to have the whole place swimming in roses

Oh Ireland my first and only love Where Christ and Caesar are hand in glove!

Save the trees of Ireland for the future men of Ireland on the fair hills of Eire, O.

His heart danced upon her movement like a cork upon a tide.

When I die Dublin will be written in my heart.

If Ireland is to become a new Ireland she must first become European.

I am tomorrow, or some future day, what I establish today. I am today what I established yesterday or some previous day.

Think you're escaping and run into yourself. Longest way round is the shortest way home.

Satan, really, is the romantic youth of Jesus re-appearing for a moment.

Every life is many days, day after day. We walk through ourselves, meeting robbers, ghosts, giants, old men, young men, wives, widows, brothers-in-love. But always meeting ourselves.

Pity is the feeling which arrests the mind in the presence of whatesoever is grave and constant in human sufferings and unites it with the human sufferer.

The present is the now, the here, through which all future plunges to the past.

Men are governed by lines of intellect - women: by curves of emotion.

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.

Nations have their ego, just like individuals.

Man and woman, love, what is it? A cork and a bottle.

I am quite content to go down to posterity as a scissors and paste man for that seems to me a harsh but not unjust description

Every physical quality admired by men in women is in direct connection with the manifold functions of women for the propagation of the species.

The heaventree of stars hung with humid nightblue fruit.

The object of the artist is the creation of the beautiful. What the beautiful is is another question.