of yet more tender joy escaped from his heart and went coursing in warm flood along his arteries. Like the tender fire of stars moments of their life together, that no one knew of or would ever know of, broke upon and illumined his memory. He longed to recall to her those moments, to make her forget the years of their dull existence together and remember only their moments of ecstasy. For the years, he felt, had not quenched his soul or hers. Their children, his writing, her household cares had not quenched all their souls' tender fire. In one letter that he had written to her then he had said: "Why is it that words like these seem to me so dull and cold? Is it because there is no word tender enough to be your name?"
-James Joyce, The Dead
Thursday, January 05, 2012
And for all of you hip cats that enjoy reading books digitally, especially on those nifty new Kindles, The Damnation of Memory is now available for approximately the cost of a good protein bar. Advantage: no brown rice syrup aftertaste.
Posted by Silverthought Press at 12:47 AM