He had realised that most vital of humanities. he had touched lives. And he had raised three boys that no one had wanted into men.

if a person was overcome by a violent madness he’d involuntarily start to sound like someone from Louisiana.

All architecture is great architecture after sunset; perhaps architecture is really a nocturnal art, like the art of fireworks.

Every word of it was for him. Against his sin, foul and secret, the whole wrath of God was aimed. The preacher's knife had probed deeply into his diseased conscience and he felt now that his soul was festering in sin.

Written By James Joyce

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