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Morning Coffee with James Joyce

His soul had arisen from the grave of boyhood, spurning her graveclothes. Yes! Yes! Yes! He would create proudly out of the freedom and power of his soul, as the great artificer whose name he bore, a living thing, new and soaring and beautiful, impalpable, imperishable. 295 more words

Portrait of the Artist as a Young Man

There’s a number of orders that people are supposed to watch Star Wars or Star Trek movies. I read James Joyce’s three novels out of chronological order of how they were written but I don’t think that matters at all. 237 more words