The heaventree of stars hung with humid nightblue fruit.
James JoyceRead
When a man is born...there are nets flung at it to hold it back from flight. You talk to me of nationality, language, religion. I shall try to fly by those nets.
Interpretation
What this quote means
The quote reflects the obstacles that societal constructs place on individual freedom and self-expression.
James Joyce suggests that from the moment we are born, we encounter various constraints imposed by society, such as nationality, language, and religion. Despite these limitations, he expresses a desire to transcend them and pursue personal freedom, indicating a struggle against the forces that seek to confine our identities and aspirations.
Themes
FreedomIdentityObstaclesSocietyExpression
In practice
Example use cases
In a speech about embracing diversity and individuality.
More from James Joyce
All quotes →I think a child should be allowed to take his father's or mother's name at will on coming of age. Paternity is a legal fiction.
James JoyceRead
If he had smiled why would he have smiled? To reflect that each one who enters imagines himself to be the first to enter whereas he is always the last term of a preceding series even if the first term of a succeeding one, each imagining himself to be first, last, only and alone whereas he is neither first nor last nor only nor alone in a series originating in and repeated to infinity.
James JoyceRead
Gentle lady, do not sing Sad songs about the end of love; Lay aside sadness and sing How love that passes is enough. Sing about the long deep sleep Of lovers that are dead, and how In the grave all love shall sleep: Love is aweary now.
James JoyceRead
I am tomorrow, or some future day, what I establish today. I am today what I established yesterday or some previous day.
James JoyceRead
The movements which work revolutions in the world are born out of the dreams and visions in a peasant's heart on the hillside.
James JoyceRead
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Not to think of yourself / as someone who did not count -- / Festival of the Souls.
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I loved every second of Catholic church. I loved the sickly sweet rotting-pomegranate smells of the incense. I loved the overwrought altar, the birdbath of holy water, the votive candles; I loved that there was a poor box, the stations of the cross rendered in stained glass on the windows.
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