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James Joyce
Quote #38
The heaventree of stars hung with humid nightblue fruit. (683)
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It soared, a bird, it held its flight, a swift pure cry, soar silver orb it leaped serene, speeding, sustained, to come, don't spin it out …
Phall if you but will, rise you must: and none so soon either shall the pahrce for the nunce come to a setdown secular phoenish. (4.15-17)
History, Stephen said, is a nightmare from which I am trying to awake.
But all they are all there scraping along to sneeze out a likelihood that will solve and salve life's robulous rebus (12.32-33)
Yes, the newspapers were right: snow was general all over Ireland. It was falling on every part of the dark central plain, on the treeless …
For that (the rapt one warns) is what papyr is meed of, made of, hides and hints and misses in prints. Till ye finally (though not yet endl…
One by one they were all becoming shades. Better pass boldly into that other world, in the full glory of some passion, than fade and wither…
came at this timecoloured place where we live in our paroqial fermament one tide on another (29.30)
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