1 He smiled to think how the silvery noise which Mr Casey used to make had deceived him.
A Portrait of the Artist as a Young Man By James JoyceContextHighlight In Chapter 1 2 Stephen looked at the plump turkey which had lain, trussed and skewered, on the kitchen table.
A Portrait of the Artist as a Young Man By James JoyceContextHighlight In Chapter 1 3 Stephen looked with affection at Mr Casey's face which stared across the table over his joined hands.
A Portrait of the Artist as a Young Man By James JoyceContextHighlight In Chapter 1 4 But he drank off the hot weak tea which the clumsy scullion, girt with a white apron, poured into his cup.
A Portrait of the Artist as a Young Man By James JoyceContextHighlight In Chapter 1 5 Bless us, O Lord, and these Thy gifts which through Thy bounty we are about to receive through Christ our Lord.
A Portrait of the Artist as a Young Man By James JoyceContextHighlight In Chapter 1 6 He wondered from which window Hamilton Rowan had thrown his hat on the ha-ha and had there been flowerbeds at that time under the windows.
A Portrait of the Artist as a Young Man By James JoyceContextHighlight In Chapter 1 7 On week days he did messages between the house in Carysfort Avenue and those shops in the main street of the town with which the family dealt.
A Portrait of the Artist as a Young Man By James JoyceContextHighlight In Chapter 2 8 Words which he did not understand he said over and over to himself till he had learnt them by heart: and through them he had glimpses of the real world about them.
A Portrait of the Artist as a Young Man By James JoyceContextHighlight In Chapter 2 9 Dante shoved her chair violently aside and left the table, upsetting her napkin-ring which rolled slowly along the carpet and came to rest against the foot of an easy-chair.
A Portrait of the Artist as a Young Man By James JoyceContextHighlight In Chapter 1 10 Outside Blackrock, on the road that led to the mountains, stood a small whitewashed house in the garden of which grew many rosebushes: and in this house, he told himself, another Mercedes lived.
A Portrait of the Artist as a Young Man By James JoyceContextHighlight In Chapter 2 11 The hour when he too would take part in the life of that world seemed drawing near and in secret he began to make ready for the great part which he felt awaited him the nature of which he only dimly apprehended.
A Portrait of the Artist as a Young Man By James JoyceContextHighlight In Chapter 2 12 At night he built up on the parlour table an image of the wonderful island cave out of transfers and paper flowers and coloured tissue paper and strips of the silver and golden paper in which chocolate is wrapped.
A Portrait of the Artist as a Young Man By James JoyceContextHighlight In Chapter 2 13 He wondered which was right, to be for the green or for the maroon, because Dante had ripped the green velvet back off the brush that was for Parnell one day with her scissors and had told him that Parnell was a bad man.
A Portrait of the Artist as a Young Man By James JoyceContextHighlight In Chapter 1 14 Trudging along the road or standing in some grimy wayside public house his elders spoke constantly of the subjects nearer their hearts, of Irish politics, of Munster and of the legends of their own family, to all of which Stephen lent an avid ear.
A Portrait of the Artist as a Young Man By James JoyceContextHighlight In Chapter 2 15 It was wrong; it was unfair and cruel; and, as he sat in the refectory, he suffered time after time in memory the same humiliation until he began to wonder whether it might not really be that there was something in his face which made him look like a schemer and he wished he had a little mirror to see.
A Portrait of the Artist as a Young Man By James JoyceContextHighlight In Chapter 1 16 That must have been a terrible sin, to go in there quietly at night, to open the dark press and steal the flashing gold thing into which God was put on the altar in the middle of flowers and candles at benediction while the incense went up in clouds at both sides as the fellow swung the censer and Dominic Kelly sang the first part by himself in the choir.
A Portrait of the Artist as a Young Man By James JoyceContextHighlight In Chapter 1 17 His arbour, as he called the reeking outhouse which he shared with the cat and the garden tools, served him also as a sounding-box: and every morning he hummed contentedly one of his favourite songs: O, TWINE ME A BOWER or BLUE EYES AND GOLDEN HAIR or THE GROVES OF BLARNEY while the grey and blue coils of smoke rose slowly from his pipe and vanished in the pure air.
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