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.
I'll tickle his catastrophe.
You get a decent do at the Brazen Head.
Our souls, shame-wounded by our sins, cling to us yet more, a woman to her lover clinging, the more the more.
The voices blend and fuse in clouded silence: silence that is infinite of space: and swiftly, silently the sound is wafted over regions of cycles of cycles of generations that have lived.
Man and woman, love, what is it? A cork and a bottle.
His heart danced upon her movement like a cork upon a tide.
It is a symbol of Irish art. The cracked looking-glass of a servant.
Gazing up into the darkness I saw myself as a creature driven and derided by vanity; and my eyes burned with anguish and anger.
Wipe your glosses with what you know.
I am not likely to die of bashfulness but neither am I prepared to be crucified to attest the perfection of my art. I dislike to hear of any stray heroics on the prowl for me.
Shaw's works make me admire the magnificent tolerance and broadmindedness of the english.
British Beatitudes! ... Beer, beef, business, bibles, bulldogs, battleships, buggery and bishops.
He kissed the plump mellow yellow smellow melons of her rump, on each plump melonous hemisphere, in their mellow yellow furrow, with obscure prolonged provocative melonsmellonous osculation.
Frequent and violent temptations were a proof that the citadel of the soul had not fallen and that the devil raged to make it fall.
An improper art aims at exciting in the way of comedy the feeling of desire but the feeling which is proper to comic art is the feeling of joy.
A way a lone a last a loved a long the--.
Though their life was modest, they believed in eating well.
You behold in me, Stephen said with grim displeasure, a horrible example of free thought.
Make me feel good in the moontime.
It is their segnall for old Champelysied to seek the shades of his retirement and for young Chappielassies to tear a round and tease their partners lovesoftfun at Finnegan's Wake.
they were yung and easily freudened.
Phall if you but will, rise you must: and none so soon either shall the pharce for the nunce come to a setdown secular phoenish.
Lord, heap miseries upon us yet entwine our arts with laughters low.
In the name of Annah the Allmaziful, the Everliving, the Bringer of Plurabilities, haloed be her eve, her singtime sung, her rill be run, unhemmed as it is uneven!
They lived and laughed and loved and left.
One great part of every human existence is passed in a state which cannot be rendered sensible by the use of wideawake language, cutanddry grammar and goahead plot.
He comes into the world God knows how, walks on the water, gets out of his grave and goes up off the Hill of Howth. What drivel is this?
God spoke to you by so many voices but you would not hear.
But my body was like a harp and her words and gestures were like fingers running upon the wires.
What? Corpus. Body. Corpse. Good idea the Latin. Stupifies them first. Hospice for the dying. They don't seem to chew it; only swallow it down.
The incompatibility of aquacity with the erratic originality of genius.
Every jackass going the roads thinks he has ideas.
An Irishman needs three things : silence, cunnning, and exile.
O cold ! O shivery ! It was your ambrosial beauty. Forget, forgive. Kismet. Let me off this once.
We were always loyal to lost causes...Success for us is the death of the intellect and of the imagination. ~ Professor MacHugh.
Each lost soul will be a hell unto itself, the boundless fire raging in its very vitals.
Masturbation! The amazing availability of it!
The end he had been born to serve yet did not see had led him to escape by an unseen path and now it beckoned to him once more and a new adventure was about to be opened to him.
The Irish are people who will never have leaders, for at the great moment they always desert them. They have produced one skeleton -- Parnell -- never a man.
--Pascal, if I remember rightly, would not suffer his mother to kiss him as he feared the contact of her sex.
The mouth can be better engaged than with a cylinder of rank weed.
Quotation marks quotato marks! Bah!
Every life is in 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.
My body was like a harp and her words and gestures were like fingers running upon the wires.
Moments of their secret life together burst like stars upon his memory.
His soul swooned slowly as he heard the snow falling faintly through the universe and faintly falling, like the descent of their last end, upon all the living and the dead.
Sparkling bronze azure eyed Blazure's skyblue bow and eyes.
His brain was simmering and bubbling within the cracking tenement of the skull.Flames burst forth from his skull like a corolla,shrieking like voices: -Hell! Hell! Hell! Hell! Hell!
Does nobody understand?
A brother is as easily forgotten as an umbrella.
No more pain. wake no more. nobody owns.
Tenors get women by the score.
A way a lone a last a loved a long the riverrun, past Eve and Adam's, from swerve of shore to bend of bay, brings us by a commodius vicus of recirculation back to Howth Castle and Environs.
Life is too short to read a bad book.
Signatures of all things I am here to read.
Ineluctable modality of the visible; at least that if no more, thought through my eyes. Signatures of all things I am here to read.
There's many a true word spoken in jest.
I don't want to die. Damn death. Long live life.
Always see a fellows weak point in his wife.
Ena milo melomon, frai is frau and swee is too, swee is two when swoo is free, ana mala woe is we!
The supreme question about a work of art is out of how deep a life does it spring.
Read your own obituary notice; they say you live longer. Gives you second wind. New lease of life.
I hear the ruin of all space, shattered glass and toppled masonry, and time one livid final flame.
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.
No, it did a lot of other things, too.
turning down fan who asked to kiss the hand that wrote Ulysses.
His soul swooned slowly as he heard the snow falling faintly throughout the universe and faintly falling, like the decent of their last end, upon all the living and the dead.
Damn it, I can understand a fellow being hard up but what I can't understand is a fellow sponging. Couldn't he have some spark of manhood about him?