The Dead…

Yes, the newspapers were right: snow was general all over Ireland. It was falling on every part of
the dark central plain, on the treeless hills, falling softly upon the Bog of Allen and , farther
westward, softly falling into the dark mutinous Shannon waves. It was falling, too, upon every part
of the lonely churchyard on the hill where Michael Furey lay buried. It lay thickly drifted on the
crooked crosses and headstones, on the spears of the little gate, on the barren thorns. His soul
swooned slowly as he heard the snow falling faintly through the universe and faintly falling, like
the descent of their last end, upon all the living and the dead.  – James Joyce, The Dead

Photo: Cemetery by blue-blood-karina

3 Responses to “The Dead…”

  1. Sarcastic Bastard Says:

    That photo of the cemetery is one of the most beautiful I have ever seen. Also, The Dead is my favorite short story of all time, particularly the last paragraph.

    You have great taste, my friend.

    Love you,



  2. namelessneed Says:

    thanx for reminding me, the reread of the Joyce prose. It was good again.
    The accompanying image (isn’t it marvelous how cemetaries look? I’ve taken many photos myself, some proud in my deviantArt site)..
    the accompanying image was just right.
    thanx for both


  3. Amazing photo!!


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