Maxioms by James Joyce
Men are governed by lines of intellect - women: by curves of emotion.
Men are governed by lines of intellect - women: by curves of emotion.
The artist, like the God of the creation, remains within or
behind or beyond or above his handiwork, invisible, read more
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.
Sometimes he caught himself listening to the sound of his own voice. He thought that in her eyes he would read more
Sometimes he caught himself listening to the sound of his own voice. He thought that in her eyes he would ascent to an angelical stature; and, as he attached the fervent nature of his companion more and more closely to him, he heard the strange impersonal voice which he recognised as his own, insisting on the soul's incurable lonliness. We cannot give ourselves, it said: we are our own.
My words in her mind: cold polished stones sinking through a quagmire.
My words in her mind: cold polished stones sinking through a quagmire.
Whatever else is unsure in this stinking dunghill of a world a mother's love is not.
Whatever else is unsure in this stinking dunghill of a world a mother's love is not.
