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
arms art believe call defence express fatherland freely itself life longer mode serve using whether wholly
I will not serve that in which I no longer believe whether it call itself my home, my fatherland or my church: and I will try to express myself in some mode of life or art as freely as I can and as wholly as I can, using for my defence the only arms
belong ireland short
I belong to the faubourg Saint-Patrice called Ireland for short
eats ireland sow
Ireland is the sow that eats her own farrow
asia extensive luck man present property regard
I regard him as the whitest man I know. He is down on his luck at present owing to the mortgaging of his extensive property at Agendath Netaim in faraway Asia Minor, slides of which will now be shown.
I am who I am because of who I was.
age age-and-aging fingers knew longer mention mind sentence start
By the age of 45, I knew I could no longer start a sentence with a mention of strudel. My fingers would want to do it but my mind just wouldn't react.
soil warm
Her companionship was like a warm soil about an exotic.
came fifth lost
Come forth, Lazarus! And he came fifth and lost the job.
fire soul hell
Each lost soul will be a hell unto itself, the boundless fire raging in its very vitals.
art glasses servant
It is a symbol of Irish art. The cracked looking-glass of a servant.
dublin would-be passing
Good puzzle would be cross Dublin without passing a pub.
signatures through-my-eyes all-things
Signatures of all things I am here to read.
inspiration pun
My puns are not trivial. They are quadrivial
fall light air
What birds were they? (...) He listened to the cries: like the squeak of mice be- hind the wainscot : a shrill twofold note. But the notes were long and shrill and whirring, unlike the cry of vermin, falling a third or a fourth and trilled as the flying beaks clove the air. Their cry was shrill and clear and fine and falling like threads of silken light unwound from whirring spools.