1 The fire rose and fell on the wall.
A Portrait of the Artist as a Young Man By James JoyceContextHighlight In Chapter 1 2 There was a fire there, but the hall was still dark.
A Portrait of the Artist as a Young Man By James JoyceContextHighlight In Chapter 1 3 For, remember, the fire of hell gives forth no light.
A Portrait of the Artist as a Young Man By James JoyceContextHighlight In Chapter 3 4 In the silence their dark fire kindled the dusk into a tawny glow.
A Portrait of the Artist as a Young Man By James JoyceContextHighlight In Chapter 3 5 He liked to sit near him at the fire, looking up at his dark fierce face.
A Portrait of the Artist as a Young Man By James JoyceContextHighlight In Chapter 1 6 Mother was sitting at the fire with Dante waiting for Brigid to bring in the tea.
A Portrait of the Artist as a Young Man By James JoyceContextHighlight In Chapter 1 7 A feeble creature like a monkey was there, drawn thither by the sound of voices at the fire.
A Portrait of the Artist as a Young Man By James JoyceContextHighlight In Chapter 2 8 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 9 It would be nice to lie on the hearthrug before the fire, leaning his head upon his hands, and think on those sentences.
A Portrait of the Artist as a Young Man By James JoyceContextHighlight In Chapter 1 10 The parlour fire would not draw that evening and Mr Dedalus rested the poker against the bars of the grate to attract the flame.
A Portrait of the Artist as a Young Man By James JoyceContextHighlight In Chapter 2 11 A great fire, banked high and red, flamed in the grate and under the ivy-twined branches of the chandelier the Christmas table was spread.
A Portrait of the Artist as a Young Man By James JoyceContextHighlight In Chapter 1 12 Before the fire an old woman was busy making tea and, as she bustled at the task, she told in a low voice of what the priest and the doctor had said.
A Portrait of the Artist as a Young Man By James JoyceContextHighlight In Chapter 2 13 It would be lovely to sleep for one night in that cottage before the fire of smoking turf, in the dark lit by the fire, in the warm dark, breathing the smell of the peasants, air and rain and turf and corduroy.
A Portrait of the Artist as a Young Man By James JoyceContextHighlight In Chapter 1 14 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 15 A hot burning stinging tingling blow like the loud crack of a broken stick made his trembling hand crumple together like a leaf in the fire: and at the sound and the pain scalding tears were driven into his eyes.
A Portrait of the Artist as a Young Man By James JoyceContextHighlight In Chapter 1 16 He understood also why the servants had often whispered together in the hall and why his father had often stood on the hearthrug with his back to the fire, talking loudly to uncle Charles who urged him to sit down and eat his dinner.
A Portrait of the Artist as a Young Man By James JoyceContextHighlight In Chapter 2 17 Mr Dedalus looked at himself in the pierglass above the mantelpiece, waxed out his moustache ends and then, parting his coat-tails, stood with his back to the glowing fire: and still from time to time he withdrew a hand from his coat-tail to wax out one of his moustache ends.
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