James Joyce

if it is thus, I ask emphatically whence comes this thusness.

Every bond is a bond to sorrow.

Too excited to be genuinely happy

He could not feel her near him in the darkness nor hear her voice touch his ear. He waited for some minutes listening. He could hear nothing: the night was perfectly silent. He listened again: perfectly silent. He felt that he was alone.

What incensed him the most was the blatant jokes of the ones that passed it all off as a jest, pretending to understand everything and in reality not knowing their own minds.

Oh Ireland my first and only love Where Christ and Caesar are hand in glove!

I have left my book, I have left my room, For I heard you singing Through the gloom.

Under cover of her silence he pressed her arm closely to his side; and, as they stood at the hotel door, he felt that they had escaped from their lives and duties, escaped from home and friends and run away together with wild and radiant hearts to a new adventure.

Like the tender fires of stars moments of their life together, that no one knew of or would ever know of, broke upon and illuminated his memory.

Moments of their secret life together burst like stars upon his memory.

For the years, he felt, had not quenched his soul, or hers.