“He came forward a pace and stood by the table. His underjaw fell sideways open uncertainly. Is this old wisdom? He waits to hear from me.
– History, Stephen said, is a nightmare from which I am trying to awake.
From the playfield the boys raised a shout. A whirring whistle: goal. What if that nightmare gave you a back kick?
– The ways of the Creator are not our ways, Mr Deasy said. All history moves towards one great goal, the manifestation of God.
Stephen jerked his thumb towards the window, saying:
– That is God.
Hooray! Ay! Whrrwhee!
– What? Mr Deasy asked.
– A shout in the street, Stephen answered, shrugging his shoulders.”
. . .
“– I foresee, Mr Deasy said, that you will not remain here very long at this work. You were not born to be a teacher, I think. Perhaps I am wrong.
– A learner rather, Stephen said.
And here what will you learn more?
Mr Deasy shook his head.
–Who knows? he said. To learn one must be humble. But life is the great teacher.”
(James Joyce, Ulysses)