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 (2 February 1882—13 January 1941) was an Irish novelist and poet, considered to be one of the most influential writers in the modernist avant-garde of the early 20th century. Joyce is best known for Ulysses (1922), perhaps the most prominent novel in the technique of stream of consciousness.

In Dubliners, Joyce’s first attempt to register in language and fictive form the protean complexities of the reality of experience, he learns the paradoxical lesson that only through the most rigorous economy, only by concentrating on the minutest of particulars, can he have any hope of engaging with the immensity of the world. From the Introduction, Joyce renews our apprehension of reality, strengthens our sympathy with our fellow creatures, and leaves us in awe before the mystery of created things. —Atlantic Monthly