Portrait of the Artist as a Young Man

“It was not thought nor vision though he knew vaguely that her figure was passing homeward through the city. Vaguely first and then more sharply he smelt her body. A conscious unrest seethed in his blood. Yes, it was her body he smelt: a wild and languid smell: the tepid limbs over which his music had flowed desirously and the secret soft linen upon which her flesh distilled odour and dew” (196).

James Joyce, A Portrait of the Artist as a Young Man (New York: Oxford University Press, 2008).

Unrest seething into blood like an unstoppable force. Fighting desire by resistance.

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