Christopher Columbus, as everyone knows, is honored by posterity because he was the last to discover America.

— James Joyce

Drugs age you after mental excitement. Lethargy then. Why? Reaction. A lifetime in a night. Gradually changes your character.

— James Joyce

Each imagining himself to be the first last and only alone, whereas he is neither first last nor only not alone in a series originating in and repeated to infinity.

— James Joyce

Early morning: set off at dawn. Travel round in front of the sun, steal a day's march on him. Keep it up forever never grow a day older technically.

— James Joyce

Every bond is a bond to sorrow.

— James Joyce

Every life is many days day after day. We walk through ourselves meeting robbers ghosts giants old men young men wives widows brothers-in-love. But always meeting ourselves.

— James Joyce

For that (the rapt one warns) is what paper is meet of, made of, hides and hints and misses in prints.

— James Joyce

Gazelles are leaping, feeding on the mountains. Near are lakes. Round their shores file shadows black of cedar groves. Aroma rises, a strong hair growth of resin. It burns, the orient, a sky of sapphire, cleft by the bronze flight of eagles. Under it lies the woman city, nude, white, still, cool, in luxury. A fountain murmurs among damask roses. Mammoth roses murmur of scarlet wine grapes. A wine of shame, lust, blood exudes, strangely murmuring.

— James Joyce

Gentle lady, do not sing Sad songs about the end of love;Lay aside sadness and sing How love that passes is enough. Sing about the long deep sleep Of lovers that are dead, and Howie the grave all love shall sleep: Love is aware now.

— James Joyce

God and religion before every thing!' Dante cried. 'God and religion before the world.' Mr Casey raised his clenched fist and brought it down on the table with a crash.' Very well then,' he shouted hoarsely, 'if it comes to that, no God for Ireland!'' John! John!' cried Mr Daedalus, seizing his guest by the coat sleeve. Dante stared across the table, her cheeks shaking. Mr Casey struggled up from his chair and bent across the table towards her, scraping the air from before his eyes with one hand as though he were tearing aside a cobweb. 'No God for Ireland!' he cried, 'We have had too much God in Ireland. Away with God!

— James Joyce