The will is never free - it is always attached to an object, a purpose. It is simply the engine in the car - it can't steer
Joyce CaryOld men when they begin to hear the last trumpet, on the morning breeze, often have a kind of absent-minded smile; like people listening. And their smiles are just politeness.
Joyce CaryI write the big scenes first, that is, the scenes that carry the meaning of the book, the emotional experience.
Joyce Cary