First kiss does the trick. The propitious moment. Something inside them goes pop.

Secrets, silent, stony sit in the dark palaces of both our hearts secrets weary of their tyranny, tyrants willing to be dethroned.

The artist who could disentangle the subtle soul of the image from its mesh of defining circumstances most exactly and 're-embody' it in artistic circumstances chosen as the most exact for it in its new office, he was the supreme artist.

Better pass boldly into that other world, in the full glory of some passion, than fade and wither dismally with age.

Man and woman, love, what is it? A cork and a bottle.

I smiled at him. America, I said quietly, just like that. What is it? The sweepings of every country including our own. Isn't that true? That's a fact.

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.

The light music of whiskey falling into glasses made an agreeable interlude.

My mouth is full of decayed teeth and my soul of decayed ambitions.

Every bond is a bond to sorrow.

Each lost soul will be a hell unto itself, the boundless fire raging in its very vitals.

I care not if I live but a day and a night, so long as my deeds live after me.

Once upon a time and a very good time it was there was a moocow coming down along the road and this moocow that was coming down along the road met a nicens little boy named baby tuckoo.

I think I would know Nora's fart anywhere. I think I could pick hers out in a roomful of farting women.

History, Stephen said, is a nightmare from which I am trying to awake.

His heart danced upon her movement like a cork upon a tide.

Ireland sober is Ireland stiff.

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.

No one who has any self-respect stays in Ireland, but flees afar as though from a country that has undergone the visitation of an angered Jove.

I am, a stride at a time.