He was not sure what idea he wished to express but the thought that a poetic moment had touched upon him took life within him like an infant hope. He… - James Joyce
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He was not sure what idea he wished to express but the thought that a poetic moment had touched upon him took life within him like an infant hope. He stepped onward bravely.
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James Joyce
James Augustine Aloysius Joyce (2 February 1882 – 13 January 1941) was an Irish novelist, short-story writer and poet.
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Portrait from Wikimedia Commons. Credit: James_Joyce_by_Alex_Ehrenzweig,_1915_restored.jpg: *James_Joyce_by_Alex_Ehrenzweig,_1915.jpg: Alex Ehrenzweig derivative work: RedAppleJack (talk) derivative work: Missionary (talk). Used under Public domain / CC0. Processed and styled by Quotewise.
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Horseness is the whatness of allhorse. Streams of tendency and eons they worship. God: noise in the street: very peripatetic.
He was alone. He was unheeded, happy, and near to the wild heart of life. He was alone and young and wilful and wildhearted, alone amid a waste of wild air and brackish waters and the seaharvest of shells and tangle and veiled grey sunlight.
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 dismally with age.
