Status Updates From A Portrait of the Artist as...

Probably the best prose I’ve ever read in a book. I’m in awe of it. This is my first Joyce.

Re. Joyce’s stream of consciousness - more flood than stream.

He hardly knew where he was walking. Pride and hope and desire like crushed herbs in his heart sent up vapours of maddening incense before the eyes of his mind. He strode down the hill amid the tumult of
suddenrisen vapours of wounded pride and fallen hope and baffled desire. They streamed upwards before his anguished eyes in dense and maddening fumes and passed away above him till at last the air was clear and cold