Quotes by James Joyce

“Travelers, there is no path, paths are made by walking”

“Nobody who ever gave his best regretted it.”

“Success in training the boy depends largely on the Scoutmasters own personal example.”

“I did it to myself. It wasnt society... it wasnt a pusher, it wasnt being blind or being black or being poor. It was all my doing.”

“The Scoutmaster guides the boy in the spirit of another brother.”

“When I die Dublin will be written in my heart.”

“The good turn will educate the boy out of the groove of selfishness.”

“When its just us, I can be myself and know youll love and understand me no matter what. You dont want anything from me except my happiness.”

“Loyalty is a feature in a boys character that inspires boundless hope.”

Writing in English is the most ingenious torture ever devised for sins committed in previous lives. The English reading public explains the reason why.

All things are inconstant except the faith in the soul, which changes all things and fills their inconstancy with light.

He is cured by faith who is sick of fate.

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, MAESTRODI 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.

‎Ive put in so many enigmas and puzzles that it will keep the professors busy for centuries arguing over what I meant, and that is the only way of insuring ones immortality.

His sensitive nature was still smarting under the lashes of an undivided and squalid way of life. His soul was still disquieted and cast down by the dull phenomenon of Dublin. He had emerged from a two years spell of revery to find himself in the midst of a new scene, every event and figure of which affected him intimately, disheartened him or allured and, whether alluring or disheartening, filled him always with unrest and bitter thoughts. All the leisure which his school life left him was passed in the company of subversive writers whose jibes and violence of speech set up a ferment in his brain before they passed out of it into his crude writings.

The soul ... has a slow and dark birth, more mysterious than the birth of the body. When the soul of a man is born in this country there are nets flung at it to hold it back from flight. You talk to me of nationality, language, religion. I shall try to fly by those nets.

Interpretations of interpretations interpreted.

By thinking of things you could understand them.

Mistakes are the portals of discovery.

Cant bring back time. Like holding water in your hand.