You forget that the kingdom of heaven suffers violence: and the kingdom of heaven is like a woman. - James Joyce

But my body was like a harp and her words and gestures were like fingers running upon the wires.

Me. And me now.

He asked himself what is a woman standing on the stairs in the shadow, listening to distant music, a symbol of. If he were a painter he would paint her in that attitude. Her blue felt hat would show off the bronze of her hair against the darkness and the dark panels of her skirt would show off the light ones. Distant Music he would call the picture if he were a painter.