His words were then these as followeth: Know all men, he said, time’s ruins build eternity’s mansions. What means this? Desire’s wind blasts the thorntree but after it becomes from a bramblebush to be a rose upon the rood of time. Mark me now. In woman’s womb word is made flesh but in the spirit of the maker all flesh that passes becomes the word that shall not pass away. This is the postcreation. Omnis cam ad te veniet.
If you can put your five fingers throught it, it is a gate, if not a door.
Then, in that case, all the rest, all that I thought I thought and all that I felt I felt, all the rest before me now, in fact... O, give it up old chap! Sleep it off!
Rapid motion through space elates one; so does notoriety; so does the possession of money.
When all things repose, do you alone Awake to hear the sweet harps play To Love before him on his way, And the night wind answering in antiphon Till night is overgone?
With hungered flesh obscurely, he mutely craved to adore.
Haun! Work your progress! Hold to! Now! Win out, ye divil ye!
It was very big to think about everything and everywhere. Only God could do that. He tried to think what a big thought that must be; but he could only think of God. God was God’s name just as his name was Stephen. DIEU was the French for God and that was God’s name too; and when anyone prayed to God and said DIEU then God knew at once that it was a French person that was praying.
All those wretched quarrels, in his humble opinion, stirring up bad blood, from some bump of combativeness or gland of some kind, erroneously supposed to be about a punctilio of honour and a flag, were very largely a question of the money question which was at the back of everything greed and jealousy, people never knowing when to stop.
We are once amore as babes awondering in a wold made fresh where with the hen in the storyaboot we start from scratch.
She asked him why did he not write out his thoughts. For what, he asked her, with careful scorn. To compete with phrasemongers, incapable of thinking consecutively for sixty seconds? To submit himself to the criticisms of an obtuse middle class which entrusted its morality to policemen and its fine arts to impressarios?
His wife was a little sharp-faced woman who bullied her husband when he was sober and was bullied by him when he was drunk.
And thanks be to God, Johnny, said Mr Dedalus, that we lived so long and did so little harm.
We are foolish, comic, motionless, corrupted, yet we are worthy of sympathy too.
Hushkah, a horn! Gadolmagtog! God es El?
All the seas of the world tumbled about her heart. He was drawing her into them: he would drown her.
Her beliefs were not extravagant. She believed steadily in the Sacred Heart as the most generally useful of all Catholic devotions and approved of the sacraments. Her faith was bounded by her kitchen but, if she was put to it, she could believe also in the banshee and in the Holy Ghost.
With thee it was not as with many that will and would and wait and never do.
More mud, more crocodiles.
A poet, yes, but an Englishman too. Do you know what is the pride of the English? Do you know what is the proudest word you will ever hear from an Englishman’s mouth? The seas’ ruler. His seacold eyes looked on the empty bay: it seems history is to blame: on me and on my words, unhating. – That on his empire, Stephen said, the sun never sets. – Ba! Mr Deasy cried. That’s not English. A French Celt said that.