Ulysses

By

James Joyce

QUOTATION: —But it’s no use, says he. Force, hatred, history, all that. That’s not life for men and women, insult and hatred. And everybody knows that it’s the very opposite of that that is really life.
MWhat? says Alf.
MLove, says Bloom. I mean the opposite of hatred.
ATTRIBUTION: James Joyce (1882–1941), Irish author. Ulysses, ch. 12, “Cyclops,” The Corrected Text, ed. Hans Walter Gabler, Random House (1986).

QUOTATION: The jews in the wilderness and on the mountaintop said: it is meet to be here. Let us build an altar to Jehovah. The Roman, like the Englishman who follows in his footsteps, brought to every new shore on which he set his foot (on our shore he never set it) only his cloacal obsession. He gazed about him in his toga and he said: It is meet to be here. Let us construct a watercloset.
ATTRIBUTION: James Joyce (1882–1941), Irish author. Ulysses, ch. 7, “Aeolus,” The Corrected Text, ed. Hans Walter Gabler, Random House (1986).

QUOTATION: I dont care what anybody says itd be much better for the world to be governed by the women in it you wouldnt see women going and killing one another and slaughtering when do you ever see women rolling around drunk like they do or gambling every penny they have and losing it on horses yes because a woman whatever she does she knows where to stop sure they wouldnt be in the world at all only for us....
ATTRIBUTION: James Joyce (1882–1941), Irish author. Ulysses, ch. 18, “Penelope,” The Corrected Text, ed. Hans Walter Gabler, Random House (1986).

QUOTATION: ... frseeeeeeeefronnnng train somewhere whistling the strength those engines have in them like big giants and the water rolling all over and out of them all sides like the end of Loves old sweeeetsonnnng the poor men that have to be out all the night from their wives and families in those roasting engines ...
ATTRIBUTION: James Joyce (1882–1941), Irish author. Molly Bloom, in Ulysses, ch. 18 of 1984 edition (1922).

QUOTATION: Would the departed never nowhere nohow reappear? Ever he would wander, selfcompelled, to the extreme limit of his cometary orbit, beyond the fixed stars and variable suns and telescopic planets, astronomical waifs and strays, to the extreme boundary of space, passing from land to land, among peoples, amid events. Somewhere imperceptibly he would hear and somehow reluctantly, suncompelled, obey the summons of recall. Whence, disappearing from the constellation of the Northern Crown he would somehow reappear reborn above delta in the constellation of Cassiopeia and after incalculable eons of peregrination return an estranged avenger, a wreaker of justice on malefactors, a dark crusader, a sleeper awakened, with financial resources (by supposition) surpassing those of Rothschild or the silver king.
ATTRIBUTION: James Joyce (1882–1941), Irish author. Ulysses, ch. 17, “Ithaca,” The Corrected Text, ed. Hans Walter Gabler, Random House (1986).

QUOTATION: —I am the resurrection and the life. That touches a man’s inmost heart.
—It does, Mr Bloom said.
Your heart perhaps but what price the fellow in the six feet by two with his toes to the daisies? No touching that. Seat of the affections. Broken heart. A pump after all, pumping thousands of gallons of blood every day. One fine day it gets bunged up: and there you are. Lots of them lying around here: lungs, hearts, livers. Old rusty pumps: damn the thing else. The resurrection and the life. Once you are dead you are dead. That last day idea. Knocking them all up out of their graves. Come forth, Lazarus! And he came fifth and lost the job. Get up! Last day! Then every fellow mousing around for his liver and his lights and the rest of his traps. Find damn all of himself that morning.
ATTRIBUTION: James Joyce (1882–1941), Irish author. Ulysses, ch. 6, “Hades,” The Corrected Text, ed. Hans Walter Gabler, Random House (1986).

QUOTATION: If he had smiled why would he have smiled? To reflect that each one who enters imagines himself to be the first to enter whereas he is always the last term of a preceding series even if the first term of a succeeding one, each imagining himself to be first, last, only and alone whereas he is neither first nor last nor only nor alone in a series originating in and repeated to infinity.
ATTRIBUTION: James Joyce (1882–1941), Irish author. Ulysses, ch. 17, “Ithaca,” The Corrected Text, ed. Hans Walter Gabler, Random House (1986).

QUOTATION: At the same time he inwardly chuckled over his gentle repartee to the blood and ouns champion about his god being a jew. People could put up with being bitten by a wolf but what properly riled them was a bite from a sheep. The most vulnerable point too of tender Achilles. Your god was a jew. Because mostly they appeared to imagine he came from Carrick-on-Shannon or somewhereabouts in the county Sligo.
ATTRIBUTION: James Joyce (1882–1941), Irish author. Ulysses, ch. 16, “Eumaeus,” The Corrected Text, ed. Hans Walter Gabler, Random House (1986).

QUOTATION: What is a ghost? Stephen said with tingling energy. One who has faded into impalpability through death, through absence, through change of manners. Elizabethan London lay as far from Stratford as corrupt Paris lies from virgin Dublin. Who is the ghost from limbo patrum, returning to the world that has forgotten him? Who is King Hamlet?
ATTRIBUTION: James Joyce (1882–1941), Irish author. Ulysses, ch. 9, “Scylla and Charybdis,” The Corrected Text, ed. Hans Walter Gabler, Random House (1986).

QUOTATION: What were habitually his final meditations? Of some one sole unique advertisement to cause passers to stop in wonder, a poster novelty, with all extraneous accretions excluded, reduced to its simplest and most efficient terms not exceeding the span of casual vision and congruous with the velocity of modern life.
ATTRIBUTION: James Joyce (1882–1941), Irish author. Ulysses, ch. 17, “Ithaca,” The Corrected Text, ed. Hans Walter Gabler, Random House (1986).

[1] - [2] - [3] - [4] - [5]