2022/10/20

Exiles, James Joyce (1913)

 





I have wounded my soul for you-- a deep wound of doubt which can never be healed. I can never know, never in this world. I do not wish to know or to believe. I do not care. It is not in the darkness of belief that I desire you. But in restless living wounding doubt. To hold you by no bonds, even of love, to be united with you in body and soul in utter nakedness-- for this I longed.

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