“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.