Stately plump Buck Mulligan came from the stairhead bearing a bowl of lather on which a mirror and a razor lay crossed.
James Joyce
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The artist like the God of creation remains within or behind or beyond or above his handiwork invisible refined out of existence indifferent paring his fingernails
- James Joyce -
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His heart danced upon her movements like a cork upon a tide. He heard what her eyes said to him from beneath their cowl and knew that in some dim past whether in life or revery he had heard their tale before.
- James Joyce -