Eventually, Stephen and Lynch separate from the group gathered to observe the hurling match, and Stephen further explains his theory of aesthetics to Lynch. He points out that although Aristotle did not provide definitions for pity and terror, he himself has defined both terms. He defines "pity" as the emotion that results when suffering is presented to—-and shared by—a human sufferer. "Terror," on the other hand, is the emotion that results when a human sufferer is presented with—and shares—the cause of human suffering.
Lynch doesn’t understand these definitions, so Stephen repeats them, explaining the difference between "static" art (an appreciation of beauty for its own sake) and "kinetic" art (that which brings about an emotional response). Stephen then provides a step-by-step explanation of his aesthetic theory.
He proposes that "since the good is what is desirable, and since the true and the beautiful are most persistently desired, then the true and the beautiful must be good" (Ellman). Although Stephen does admit that what is beautiful to one person may not be beautiful to another, he emphasizes that the universal beauty of an object can be appreciated in terms of its "integras" (wholeness), its "consonantia" (harmony), and its "claritas" (radiance). Ultimately, he explains, the moment an individual comprehends and appreciates these qualities of an object of art, its beauty provides the observer with a spiritual experience which has been referred to as "the enchantment of the heart."
Lynch is confused but entertained by Stephen’s definition of art, and so Stephen continues to explain how an individual can tell the difference between inferior and superior art. The "lyrical form," he states, "is the simplest verbal gesture of an instant of emotion," related directly to the experience of the artist himself. "Epical form," he continues, is a step away from the lyrical and presents the artist's "image in . . . relation to himself and to others." (The words "to others" are the key to this form of art.) Finally, the "dramatic form" is the most superior of the three forms of art because the artist's personality becomes submerged completely—leaving the work standing alone, interacting with others who observe it. This form of art fills "every person with . . . a vital force," which exudes from the work of art itself.
Stephen concludes that the duty of the true artist is to stand back from his completed creation and remain "indifferent" to it, allowing it to live a life of its own.
Following this lengthy explanation, rain begins to fall, and Stephen and Lynch return to the library. Lynch continues to talk, but Stephen is oblivious to his friend because he (Stephen) has observed Emma Clery, the girl to whom he has been attracted for a long time. He makes no attempt to speak to her, but his mind is filled with wonder: How does she spend her days? What is she thinking? Does she have a "simple and wilful heart"?
Next morning, Stephen awakens refreshed and impassioned by his dream about Emma. Her image created in him "an enchantment of the heart," which inspires him to write an elaborate villanelle in her honor, and as he does so, he recalls the first verse he wrote for her—ten years ago. Stephen is also reminded of the many times that he has thought about her since their first encounter on the tram steps. His completed, six-stanza villanelle contains a multi-dimensional view of her: she is an object of Stephen’s worship, as well as a "temptress" of his desire.
In the next scene, Stephen is once again on the library steps. He gazes intently at the birds flying overhead. He counts them, traces their movements, and hears their cries as they beckon him to follow and "leave for ever the house of prayer and prudence into which he had been born." His thoughts are interrupted by the voices of Cranly, Dixon, Temple, and others. They begin a quicksilver, random discussion of political and religious ideas, and the bickering eventually develops into a battle of insults between Temple and Cranly, revealing their dislike for one another—primarily because of their jealousy over Stephen’s attentions.
Suddenly, Emma—the girl of Stephen’s dream—passes by; like the birds, she seems to invite Stephen to leave his life at the university. Urgently, Stephen asks Cranly to step away from the crowd for a private conversation; he desperately wants Cranly's opinion on a family matter: Stephen’s mother is pressuring him to make his "Easter duty" (confession and communion), but Stephen, having adopted his non serviam credo, refuses to do so. Cranly advises Stephen to make his Easter duty—to please his mother, even though Stephen no longer believes in the sacredness of the Church rituals. Stephen counters with a series of logical retorts and makes Cranly wonder how a young man so "supersaturated with . . . religion" can disbelieve in the ceremonial rites of the Church.
Stephen confesses that he was once a fervent Roman Catholic—just as he was once a fervent disciple of his family and his country. But, having been disappointed, betrayed, and restricted by all of them, he now prefers to leave them all behind. He feels a deep need to declare his artistic, spiritual, and national independence. Stephen is sad that he and Cranly no longer view such matters in the same way, and his remorse is further compounded when he senses Cranly's anguished fear of being left behind. Nevertheless, claiming to fear nothing—not even an eternity in Hell—Stephen concludes his discussion by stating, "I will not serve that in which I no longer believe whether it call itself my home, my fatherland, or my church."
The final section of the novel consists of Stephen's diary entries as he prepares to leave Ireland. His first entry on March 20 reflects his last conversation with Cranly. The entries made during the following week reflect his feelings about leaving his friends, his family, his countryrmen, and his religion. As the entry dates approach the time of departure, Stephen’s entries become more hopeful. They reveal an increasing fascination for language, and they contain references to mythical characters. In the entry recorded the day before he leaves Ireland, Stephen writes about his mother's prayer that he will "learn . . . what the heart is and what it feels." It is here that Stephen announces his avowed intention "to forge in the smithy of my soul the uncreated conscience of my race."
Stephen’s final entry in his diary, dated April 27, invokes his mythical namesake, Daedalus. He asks his "old father, old artificer" to assist him in the pursuit of his artistic future.
