James Joyce, Finnegans Wake Quotes

He is cured by faith who is sick of fate.

Sleep, where in the waste is the wisdom?

For that (the rapt one warns) is what papyr is meed of, made of, hides and hints and misses in prints.

Never back a woman you defend, never get quit of a friend on whom you depend, never make face to a foe till he’s rife and never get stuck to another man’s pfife.

Here's lumbos. Where misties swaddlum, where misches lodge none, where mystries pour kind on, O sleepy! So be yet!

And you’ll miss me more as the narrowing weeks wing by. Someday duly, oneday truly, twosday newly, till whensday.

Three quarks for Muster Mark!