Term
| Once upon a time and a very good time it was there was a moocow coming down along the road and this moocow that was coming down along the road met a nicens little boy named baby tuckoo. . |
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Definition
| Portrait of the Artist. Stephen Dedalus |
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Term
| A girl stood before him i midstream, alone and still, gazing out to sea. She seemed like one whom magic had changed into the likeness of a strange and beautiful sea bird. |
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Definition
| Portrait of the Artist. Woman representing art |
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Term
| He saw the rector sitting at a desk writing. There was a skill om the desk and a strange solemn smell in the room like the old leather of chairs. |
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Definition
| Portrait of the Artist. Stephen Dedalus |
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Term
| A traitor to his country! replied___. A traitor, and adulterer! The priests were right to abandon him. The priests were always the true friends of Ireland |
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Definition
| Portrait of the Artist. Dante |
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Term
| He felt that he was hardly of the one blood with them but stood to them rather in the mystical kinship of fosterage, fosterchild and fosterbrother |
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Definition
| Portrait of the Artist. Stephen Dedalus |
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Term
| He knelt to day his penance. praying in a corner of the dark nave: and his prayers ascended to heaven from his purified heart like perfume streaming upwards from a heart of white rose. |
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Definition
| Portrait of the Artist. Stephen Dedalus |
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Term
| he smiled to think that it was this disorder, the misrule and confusion of his father's house and the stagnation of vegetable life, which was to win the day in his soul. |
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Definition
| Portrait of the Artist. Stephen Dedalus |
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Term
| Now, at the name of the fabulous artificer, he seemed to hear the noise of dim waves and to see a winged form flying above the waves and slowly climbing the air. What did it mean? |
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Definition
| Portrait of the Artist. Stephen Dedalus |
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Term
| The soul is born, he said vaguely, first in those moments I told you of. It was 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. |
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Definition
| Portrait of the Artist. Stephen Dedalus |
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Term
| The church is not the stone building nor even the clergy and their dogmas. It is the whole mass of those born into it. I don't know what you wish to do in life. Is it what you told me the night we were standing outside Harcourt Street station? |
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Definition
| Portrait of the Artist. Cranly |
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Term
| I will not serve that in which, I no longer believe whether it call itself my home, my fatherland, or my church. |
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Definition
| Portrait of the Artist. Stephen Dedalus |
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Term
| His throat ached with a desire to cry aloud, the cry of a hawk or eagle on high, to cry piercingly of his deliverance to the winds. This was the call of life to his soul not the dull gross voice of the world of duties and despair, not the inhuman voice that had called him to the pale service of the altar. An instant of wild flight had delivered him and the cry of triumph which his lips withheld cleft his brain. |
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Definition
| Portrait of the Artist. Stephen Dedalus |
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Term
| It was a splendid mind. For if thought is like the keyboard of a piano, divided into so many notes, or like the alphabet is ranged in twenty-six letters all in order, then his splendid mind had no difficulty in running over those letters one by one, firmly accurately, until it had reached,say, the letter Q. |
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Definition
| To the Lighthouse. Mr. Ramsay |
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Term
| It partook . . . of eternity . . . there is a coherence in things, a stability; something, she meant, is immune from change, and shines out (she glanced at the window with its ripple of reflected lights) in the face of the flowing, the fleeting, the spectral, like a ruby; so that again tonight she had the feeling she had had once today, already, of peace, of rest. Of such moments, she thought, the thing is made that endures. |
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Definition
| To the Lighthouse. Mrs. Ramsay |
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