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James Joyce

Eveline

  • Jevon Washingtonhas quoted9 years ago
    It was hard work — a hard life — but now that she was about to leave it she did not find it a wholly undesirable life.
  • Jevon Washingtonhas quoted9 years ago
    Home! She looked round the room, reviewing all its familiar objects which she had dusted once a week for so many years, wondering where on earth all the dust came from.
  • darkfairyniahas quoted10 years ago
    leave her home. Was that wise? She tried to weigh each side of the question. In her home anyway she had shelter and food; she had those whom she had known all her life about her. Of course she had to work hard, both in the house and at business. What would they say of her in the Stores when they found out that she had run away with a fellow? Say she was a fool, perhaps; and her place would be filled up by advertisement. Miss Gavan would be glad. She had always had an edge on her, especially whenever there were people listening.
  • Jada getfieldhas quotedlast month
    She set her white face to him, passive, like a helpless animal

    Sadness

  • Jada getfieldhas quotedlast month
    Derevaun Seraun! Derevaun Seraun!'

    Meaning : The end of all
    Pleasure is pain

  • Jada getfieldhas quotedlast month
    The white of two letters in her lap grew indistinct.

    Difficult to see, she is also backtracking

  • Jada getfieldhas quotedlast month
    She had consented to go away, to leave her home

    (Passive voice)

  • Jada getfieldhas quotedlast month
    new red houses

    Their we old brown houses

  • Anthony Russohas quotedlast year
    `Derevaun Seraun! Derevaun Seraun!
  • Al Kenyanyahas quotedlast year
    James Joyce
    Eveline
    *
    She sat at the window watching the evening invade the avenue. Her head was leaned against the window curtains, and in her nostrils was the odour of dusty cretonne. She was tired.

    Few people passed. The man out of the last house passed on his way home; she heard his footsteps clacking along the concrete pavement and afterwards crunching on the cinder path before the new red houses. One time there used to be a field there in which they used to play every evening with other people's children. Then a man from Belfast bought the field and built houses in it — not like their little brown houses, but bright brick houses with shining roofs. The children of the avenue used to play together in that field — the Devines, the Waters, the Dunns, little Keogh the cripple, she and her brothers and sisters. Ernest, however, never played: he was too grown up. Her father used often to hunt them in out of the field with his blackthorn stick; but usually little Keogh used to keep nix and call out when he saw her father coming. Still they seemed to have been rather happy
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