I hear the ruin of all space, shattered glass and toppled masonry, and time one livid final flame.
James JoyceO cold ! O shivery ! It was your ambrosial beauty. Forget, forgive. Kismet. Let me off this once.
James Joyce(...) The new nine muses, Commerce, Operatic Music, Amor, Publicity, Manufacture, Liberty of Specch, Plural Voting, Gastronomy, Private Hygiene, Seaside Concert Entertainments, Painless Obstetrics and Astronomy for the People.
James JoyceOur 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 Joyce