1 They were quenched: and the cold darkness filled chaos.
A Portrait of the Artist as a Young Man By James JoyceContextHighlight In Chapter 3 2 The ambition which he felt astir at times in the darkness of his soul sought no outlet.
A Portrait of the Artist as a Young Man By James JoyceContextHighlight In Chapter 2 3 They would be alone, surrounded by darkness and silence: and in that moment of supreme tenderness he would be transfigured.
A Portrait of the Artist as a Young Man By James JoyceContextHighlight In Chapter 2 4 Of all the plagues with which the land of the Pharaohs were smitten one plague alone, that of darkness, was called horrible.
A Portrait of the Artist as a Young Man By James JoyceContextHighlight In Chapter 3 5 He felt some dark presence moving irresistibly upon him from the darkness, a presence subtle and murmurous as a flood filling him wholly with itself.
A Portrait of the Artist as a Young Man By James JoyceContextHighlight In Chapter 2 6 Stephen remained in the background, depressed more than ever by the darkness and silence of the theatre and by the air it wore of jaded and formal study.
A Portrait of the Artist as a Young Man By James JoyceContextHighlight In Chapter 2 7 At the far end of the shed near the street a speck of pink light showed in the darkness and as he walked towards it he became aware of a faint aromatic odour.
A Portrait of the Artist as a Young Man By James JoyceContextHighlight In Chapter 2 8 Like a beast in its lair his soul had lain down in its own filth but the blasts of the angel's trumpet had driven him forth from the darkness of sin into the light.
A Portrait of the Artist as a Young Man By James JoyceContextHighlight In Chapter 3 9 The spittle in his throat grew bitter and foul to swallow and the faint sickness climbed to his brain so that for a moment he closed his eyes and walked on in darkness.
A Portrait of the Artist as a Young Man By James JoyceContextHighlight In Chapter 2 10 It is a never ending storm of darkness, dark flames and dark smoke of burning brimstone, amid which the bodies are heaped one upon another without even a glimpse of air.
A Portrait of the Artist as a Young Man By James JoyceContextHighlight In Chapter 3 11 A figure that had seemed to him by day demure and innocent came towards him by night through the winding darkness of sleep, her face transfigured by a lecherous cunning, her eyes bright with brutish joy.
A Portrait of the Artist as a Young Man By James JoyceContextHighlight In Chapter 2 12 The sentence of saint James which says that he who offends against one commandment becomes guilty of all, had seemed to him first a swollen phrase until he had begun to grope in the darkness of his own state.
A Portrait of the Artist as a Young Man By James JoyceContextHighlight In Chapter 3 13 As, at the command of God, the fire of the Babylonian furnace lost its heat but not its light, so, at the command of God, the fire of hell, while retaining the intensity of its heat, burns eternally in darkness.
A Portrait of the Artist as a Young Man By James JoyceContextHighlight In Chapter 3 14 And then imagine this sickening stench, multiplied a millionfold and a millionfold again from the millions upon millions of fetid carcasses massed together in the reeking darkness, a huge and rotting human fungus.
A Portrait of the Artist as a Young Man By James JoyceContextHighlight In Chapter 3 15 The latter was a stranger to him but in the darkness, by the aid of the glowing cigarette tips, he could make out a pale dandyish face over which a smile was travelling slowly, a tall overcoated figure and a hard hat.
A Portrait of the Artist as a Young Man By James JoyceContextHighlight In Chapter 2 16 He saw the darkening lands slipping away past him, the silent telegraph-poles passing his window swiftly every four seconds, the little glimmering stations, manned by a few silent sentries, flung by the mail behind her and twinkling for a moment in the darkness like fiery grains flung backwards by a runner.
A Portrait of the Artist as a Young Man By James JoyceContextHighlight In Chapter 2 17 Every sense of the flesh is tortured and every faculty of the soul therewith: the eyes with impenetrable utter darkness, the nose with noisome odours, the ears with yells and howls and execrations, the taste with foul matter, leprous corruption, nameless suffocating filth, the touch with redhot goads and spikes, with cruel tongues of flame.
A Portrait of the Artist as a Young Man By James JoyceContextHighlight In Chapter 3 Your search result possibly is over 17 sentences. If you upgrade to a VIP account, you will see up to 500 sentences for one search.