Quotation from: A Portrait of the Artist as a Young Man

Written by: James Joyce


They had reached the canal bridge and, turning from their course, went
on by the trees. A crude grey light, mirrored in the sluggish water and
a smell of wet branches over their heads seemed to war against the
course of Stephen's thought.


--But you have not answered my question, said Lynch. What is art? What
is the beauty it expresses?


--That was the first definition I gave you, you sleepy-headed wretch,
said Stephen, when I began to try to think out the matter for myself.
Do you remember the night? Cranly lost his temper and began to talk
about Wicklow bacon.

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