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Tag Archives: Henry Miller
Rejoyce. It’s Bloomsday.
Some men send flowers to commemorate an anniversary. James Joyce wrote Ulysses. Overachiever. On June 15, 1904, young James Joyce sent a note to Nora Barnacle, who was a waitress at Finn’s Hotel. Barnacle (what an apt name) was a … Continue reading
Posted in Books, James Joyce, On This Day, writers
Tagged Bloomsday, E.M. Forster, Edna O'Brien, Ernest Hemingway, Ezra Pound, Ford Madox Ford, Frank McCourt, George Bernard Shaw, Gertrude Stein, Henry Miller, Ireland, John Banville, Katherine Mansfield, Stefan Zweig, Sylvia Beach, T.S. Eliot, Ulysses, Vladimir Nabokov, W.B. Yeats, William Carlos Williams
54 Comments
Henry Miller: “Ulysses is like a vomit”
Henry Miller: For at bottom there is in Joyce a profound hatred for humanity — the scholar’s hatred. One realizes that he has the neurotic’s fear of entering the living world, the world of men and women in which he … Continue reading
Posted in Books
Tagged Henry Miller, Ireland, Ulysses
Comments Off on Henry Miller: “Ulysses is like a vomit”
“Henceforth no sin”
Henry Miller: After the closing picture of Molly Bloom a-dreaming on her dirty bed we can say, as in Revelation — And there shall be no more curse! Henceforth no sin, no guilt, no fear, no repression, no longing, no … Continue reading
“a ferocious masturbation”
Henry Miller: Endowed with a Rableaisian ability for word invention, embittered by the domination of a church for which his intellect had no use, harassed by the lack of understanding on the part of family and friends, obsessed by theparental … Continue reading
Interests
Develop interest in life as you see it, in people, things, literature, music – the world is so rich, simply throbbing with rich treasures, beautiful souls and interesting people. Forget yourself. — Henry Miller