"The language in which we are speaking is his before it is mine. How different are the words home, Christ, ale, master, on his lips and on mine! I cannot speak or write these words without unrest of spirit. His language, so familiar and so foreign, will always be for me an acquired speech. I have not made or accepted its words. My voice holds them at bay. My soul frets in the shadow of his language."
(James Joyce, Retrato do Artista quando Jovem)
Very deep, son. Being on England is turning you a little bit introspectiv, isn't it? But, what does it really mean?
ResponderExcluirInteressante ele citar cerveja logo depois de Cristo, fechando com a palavra mestre ainda ;p
ResponderExcluirMãe, it means what it means. Inglês não é minha língua, nunca vai ser.
ResponderExcluirHiro, também pensei nisso. Bem irlandês da parte dele.