He drew forth a phrase from his treasure and spoke it softly to himself: — A day of dappled seaborne clouds. The phrase and the day and the scene harmonized in a chord. Words. Was it their colours? He allowed them to glow and fade, hue after hue: sunrise... The Word According to James Joyce: Reconstructing Representation - Page 37 by Cordell D. K. Yee - 1997 - 171 pages Limited preview -
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