A Portrait of the Artist as a Young Man

The past is consumed in the present and the present is living only because it brings forth the future.

What did that mean, to kiss? You put your face up like that to say good night and then his mother put her face down. That was to kiss. His mother put her lips on his cheek; her lips were soft and they wetted his cheek; and they made a tiny little noise: kiss. Why did people do that with their two faces?

hither and thither.

the arrival of the first arts' class.

Byron, of course, answered Stephen.

He knew it was right to begin so for he had seen similar titles in the collected poems of Lord Byron.

—and to amend my life—

had silvery whistles and their keys made a quick music: click, click: click, click.

His mother put her lips on his cheek; her lips were soft and they wetted his cheek; and they made a tiny little noise: kiss. Why did people do that with their two faces?

He sat in a corner of the playroom pretending to watch a game of dominoes and once or twice he was able to hear for an instant the little song of the gas.