"THERE was no hope for him this time: it was the third stroke. Night after night I had passed the house (it was vacation
time) and studied the lighted square of window: and night after night I had found it lighted in the same way, faintly and
evenly. If he was dead, I thought, I would see the reflection of candles on the darkened blind for I knew that two candles
must be set at the head of a corpse. He had often said to me: I am not long for this world, and I had thought his words
idle. Now I knew they were true. Every night as I gazed up at the window I said softly to myself the word paralysis.
It had always sounded strangely in my ears, like the word gnomon in the Euclid and the word simony in the Catechism.
But now it sounded to me like the name of some maleficent and sinful being. It filled me with fear, and yet I longed to be
nearer to it and to look upon its deadly work.
Old Cotter was sitting at the fire, smoking, when I came downstairs
to supper. While my aunt was ladling out my stirabout he said, as if returning to some former remark of his:
I wouldn't say he was exactly . . . but there was something queer . . . there was something uncanny about him. I'll tell you
my opinion. . . ."
Exiles by James Joyce
"Richard: lights and offers him a match: There is a faith still stranger than the faith of the disciple in his master.
Robert: And that is?
Richard: The faith of a master in the disciple who will betray him.
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. "
Chamber Music by James Joyce
"The lamp fills with a pale green glow
The trees of the avenue.
The old piano plays an air,
Sedate and slow and gay;
She bends upon the yellow keys,
Her head inclines
Shy thought and grave wide eyes and hands
That wander as they list -- -
The twilight turns to darker
With lights of amethyst.
At that hour when all things have repose,
O lonely watcher of the skies,
Do you hear the night wind
and the sighs
Of harps playing unto Love to unclose
The pale gates of sunrise?
When all things repose, do you alone
Awake to hear the sweet harps play
To Love before him on his way,
the night wind answering in antiphon
Till night is overgone?
Play on, invisible harps, unto Love,
Whose way in heaven is aglow
At that hour when soft lights come
Soft sweet music in the air above
And in the earth below."