“He was alone. He was unheeded, happy and near to the wild heart of life. He was alone and young and wilful and wildhearted, alone amid a waste of wild air and brackish waters and the seaharvest of shells and tangle and veiled grey sunlight and gayclad lightclad figures of children and girls and voices childish and girlish in the air.” (144)
This stood out to me because of how happy and loose Stephen feels to have finally given up his deep religious feelings and to feel free in the world. This seems to be the first time he has felt like this since at least the beginning of the novel.
James Joyce, A Portrait of the Artist as a Young Man. New York: Oxford University Press, 2008. (144)