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Image of the quote is loading... SaveSave He wanted to cry quietly but not for himself: for the words, so beautiful and sad, like music. - Quote by James Joyce

He wanted to cry quietly but not for himself: for the words, so beautiful and sad, like music.

James Joyce
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Unseen, one summer eve, you kissed me in four places.
James Joyce
To say that a great genius is mad, while at the same time recognizing his artistic merit, is no better than to say he is rheumatic or diabetic.
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The present is the now the here through which all future plunges to the past.
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Pity is the feeling which arrests the mind in the presence of whatesoever is grave and constant in human sufferings and unites it with the human sufferer.
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Ireland is the old sow that eats her farrow.
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Every life is many days day after day. We walk through ourselves meeting robbers ghosts giants old men young men wives widows brothers-in-love. But always meeting ourselves.
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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.
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Our flesh shrinks from what it dreads and responds to the stimulus of what it desires by a purely reflex action of the nervous system. Our eyelid closes before we are aware that the fly is about to enter our eye.
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