The swift December dusk had come tumbling clownishly after its dull day and, as he stared through the … - James Joyce

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The traditional statement about language is that it is in itself living, and that writing is the dead part of language.

James Joyce

The swift December dusk had come tumbling clownishly after its dull day and, as he stared through the dull square of the window of the schoolroom, he felt his belly crave for its food. He hoped there would be stew for dinner, turnips and carrots and bruised potatoes and fat mutton pieces to be ladled out in thick peppered flourfattened sauce. Stuff it into you, his belly counselled him.

Cooking, Dusk, Food, Square, Squares, Stuff

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A man's errors are his portals of discovery.

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I have the words already. What I am seeking is the perfect order of words in the sentence. You can see for yourself how many different ways they might be arranged.

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When the short days of winter came, dusk fell before we had well eaten our dinners. When we met in the street the houses had grown sombre. The space of sky above us was the colour of ever-changing violet and towards it the lamps of the street lifted their feeble lanterns. The cold air stung us and we played till our bodies glowed. Our shouts echoed in the silent street.

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Thought is the thought of thought.

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Life is too short to read a bad book.

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