I've been working hard on [Ulysses] all day," said Joyce. Does that mean that you have written a great deal?" I said. Two sentences," said Joyce. I looked sideways but Joyce was not smiling. I thought of [French novelist Gustave] Flaubert. "You've been seeking the mot juste?" I said. No," said Joyce. "I have the words already. What I am seeking is the perfect order of words in the sentence.

Theologians consider that it was the sin of pride, the sinful thought conceived in an instant: non serviam: I will not serve. That instant was his [Lucifer's] ruin.

I'll tickle his catastrophe.

Hold to the now, the here, through which all future plunges to the past.

I have left my book, I have left my room, For I heard you singing Through the gloom.

Full many a flower is born to blush unseen.

I am tomorrow, or some future day, what I establish today. I am today what I established yesterday or some previous day.