Ineluctable modality of the visible: at least that if no more, thought through my eyes. Signatures of all things I am here to read, seaspawn and seawrack, the nearing tide, that rusty boot. Snotgreen, bluesilver, rust: coloured signs. Limits of the diaphane. But he adds: in bodies. Then he was aware of them bodies before of them coloured. How? By knocking his sconce against them, sure. Go easy. Bald he was and a millionaire, MAESTRO
DI COLOR CHE SANNO. Limit of the diaphane in. Why in? Diaphane, adiaphane. If you can put your five fingers through it it is a gate, if not a door. Shut your eyes and see.

James Joyce

Mots clés writing



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Redheaded women buck like goats.

James Joyce

Mots clés sexuality redheads



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All Moanday, Tearday, Wailsday, Thumpsday, Frightday, Shatterday.

James Joyce


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A wild angel had appeared to him, the angel of mortal youth and beauty, an envoy from the fair courts of life, to throw open before him in an instant of ecstasy the gates of all the ways of error and glory.

James Joyce


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Puck Mulligan footed featly, trilling:

I HARDLY HEAR THE PURLIEU CRY
OR A TOMMY TALK AS I PASS ONE BY
BEFORE MY THOUGHTS BEGIN TO RUN
ON F. M'CURDY ATKINSON,
THE SAME THAT HAD THE WOODEN LEG
AND THAT FILIBUSTERING FILIBEG
THAT NEVER DARED TO SLAKE HIS DROUTH,
MAGEE THAT HAD THE CHINLESS MOUTH.
BEING AFRAID TO MARRY ON EARTH
THEY MASTURBATED FOR ALL THEY WERE WORTH.

Jest on. Know thyself.

James Joyce


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I am other I now.

James Joyce


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The movements which work revolutions in the world are born out of the dreams and visions in a peasant's heart on the hillside.

James Joyce


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Me. And me now.

James Joyce


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Her lips touched his brain as they touched his lips, as though they were a vehicle of some vague speech and between them he felt an unknown and timid preasure, darker than the swoon of sin, softer than sound or odor.

James Joyce

Mots clés kissing seduction



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When one reads these strange pages of one long gone one feels that one is at one with one who once…

James Joyce


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