The language in which we are speaking is his before it is mine. How different are the words HOME, CHRIST, ALE, MASTER, on his lips and on mine! I cannot speak or write these words without unrest of spirit. His language, so familiar and so foreign, will always be for me an acquired speech. I have not made or accepted its words. My voice holds them at bay. My soul frets in the shadow of his language. James Joyce
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More Quotes By James Joyce
  1. His heart danced upon her movements like a cork upon a tide. He heard what her eyes said to him from beneath their cowl and knew that in some dim past, whether in life or revery, he had heard their tale before.
  2. You made me confess the fears that I have. But I will tell you also what I do not fear. I do not fear to be alone or to be spurned for another or to leave whatever I have to leave. And I am not...
  3. And yet her name was like a summons to all my foolish blood.
  4. Why is it that words like these seem dull and cold? Is it because there is no word tender enough to be your name?
  5. Writing in English is the most ingenious torture ever devised for sins committed in previous lives. The English reading public explains the reason why.
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