One could equally argue that all great works of literature are experiments on some level. Authors, especially poets, have been playing games with language for centuries before Joyce; that Joyce finally did it in prose in novel-length, and did it by combining language from multiple cultures and idioms, seems only a matter of scale.Originally Posted by kelby_lake
"As far as we can discern, the sole purpose of human existence is to kindle a light of meaning in the darkness of mere being." --Carl Gustav Jung
"To absent friends, lost loves, old gods, and the season of mists; and may each and every one of us always give the devil his due." --Neil Gaiman; The Sandman Vol. 4: Season of Mists
"I'm on my way, from misery to happiness today. Uh-huh, uh-huh, uh-huh, uh-huh" --The Proclaimers
You hit the nail on its head. And just to expand on it, knowledge is unquenchable, so to get to the bottom of anything is as futile as having a rosy economic forecast live up to its rosy forecast.
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