James Joyce
James Joyce
James Augustine Aloysius Joycewas an Irish novelist and poet. He contributed to the modernist avant-garde, and is regarded as one of the most influential and important authors of the twentieth century...
NationalityIrish
ProfessionNovelist
Date of Birth2 February 1882
CityRathgar, Ireland
CountryIreland
perfect water humanity
And in spite of everything, Ireland remains the brain of the Kingdom. The English, judiciously practical and ponderous, furnish the over-stuffed stomach of humanity with a perfect gadget--the water closet. The Irish, condemned to express themselves in a language not their own, have stamped on it the mark of their own genius and compete for glory with the civilized nations. This is then called English literature.
brain odor speech
Her lips touched his brain as they touched his lips, as though they were a vehicle of some vague speech and between them he felt an unknown and timid preasure, darker than the swoon of sin, softer than sound or odor.
cheesy gone milk
A corpse is meat gone bad. Well and what's cheese? Corpse of milk.
thinking fart picks
I think I would know Nora's fart anywhere. I think I could pick hers out in a roomful of farting women.
brother men wife
Every life is in 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.
writing tables rooms
No pen, no ink, no table, no room, no time, no quiet, no inclination.
reading writing reason-why
Writing in English is the most ingenious torture ever devised for sins committed in previous lives. The English reading public explains the reason why.
writing fantastic artifice
Poetry, even when apparently most fantastic, is always a revolt against artifice, a revolt, in a sense, against actuality.
art invisible creation
The artist, like the God of the creation, remains within or behind or beyond or above his handiwork, invisible, refined out of existence, indifferent, paring his fingernails.
pain flames fire
In this life our sorrows are either not very long or not very great because nature either overcomes them by habits or puts an end to them by sinking under their weight. But in hell the torments cannot be overcome by habit, for while they are of terrible intensity they are at the same time of continual variety, each pain, so to speak, taking fire from another and re-endowing that which has enkindled it with a still fiercer flame.
birthday passion other-worlds
Better pass boldly into that other world, in the full glory of some passion, than fade and wither dismally with age.
proud
I am proud to be an emotionalist.
voice creating people
Though people may read more into Ulysses than I ever intended, who is to say that they are wrong: do any of us know what we are creating?Which of us can control our scribblings? They are the script of one's personality like your voice or your walk
gratitude appreciation regret
Very gratefully, with grateful appreciation, with sincere appreciative gratitude, in appreciatively grateful sincerity of regret, he declined.