1 One soul was lost; a tiny soul: his.
A Portrait of the Artist as a Young Man By James JoyceContextHighlight In Chapter 3 2 It flickered once and went out, forgotten, lost.
A Portrait of the Artist as a Young Man By James JoyceContextHighlight In Chapter 3 3 They mock and jeer at the lost souls whom they dragged down to ruin.
A Portrait of the Artist as a Young Man By James JoyceContextHighlight In Chapter 3 4 He had been lost or had wandered out of existence for he no longer existed.
A Portrait of the Artist as a Young Man By James JoyceContextHighlight In Chapter 2 5 His eyes were dimmed with tears and, looking humbly up to heaven, he wept for the innocence he had lost.
A Portrait of the Artist as a Young Man By James JoyceContextHighlight In Chapter 3 6 Hell is a strait and dark and foul-smelling prison, an abode of demons and lost souls, filled with fire and smoke.
A Portrait of the Artist as a Young Man By James JoyceContextHighlight In Chapter 3 7 His childhood was dead or lost and with it his soul capable of simple joys and he was drifting amid life like the barren shell of the moon.
A Portrait of the Artist as a Young Man By James JoyceContextHighlight In Chapter 2 8 And this terrible fire will not afflict the bodies of the damned only from without, but each lost soul will be a hell unto itself, the boundless fire raging in its very vitals.
A Portrait of the Artist as a Young Man By James JoyceContextHighlight In Chapter 3 9 How they will rage and fume to think that they have lost the bliss of heaven for the dross of earth, for a few pieces of metal, for vain honours, for bodily comforts, for a tingling of the nerves.
A Portrait of the Artist as a Young Man By James JoyceContextHighlight In Chapter 3 10 He clasped his hands and raised them towards the white form, praying with his darkened eyes, praying with all his trembling body, swaying his head to and fro like a lost creature, praying with whimpering lips.
A Portrait of the Artist as a Young Man By James JoyceContextHighlight In Chapter 3 11 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 12 Just as in dead bodies worms are engendered by putrefaction, so in the souls of the lost there arises a perpetual remorse from the putrefaction of sin, the sting of conscience, the worm, as Pope Innocent the Third calls it, of the triple sting.
A Portrait of the Artist as a Young Man By James JoyceContextHighlight In Chapter 3 13 In this life we have not a very clear idea of what such a loss must be, but the damned in hell, for their greater torment, have a full understanding of that which they have lost, and understand that they have lost it through their own sins and have lost it for ever.
A Portrait of the Artist as a Young Man By James JoyceContextHighlight In Chapter 3