Our souls, shamewounded by our sins, cling to us yet more, a woman to her lover clinging, the more the more. She trusts me, her hand gentle, the longlashed eyes. Now where the blue hell am I bringing her beyond the veil? Into the ineluctable modality of the ineluctable visuality. She, she, she. What she?
James JoyceWhen I makes tea I makes tea, as old mother Grogan said. And when I makes water I makes water.
James JoyceBritish Beatitudes! ... Beer, beef, business, bibles, bulldogs, battleships, buggery and bishops.
James JoyceOnce 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
James Joyce