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An ingenious suggestion is that thrown out by Mr V. Lynch (Bacc. Arith.) that both natality and mortality, as well as all other phenomena of evolution, tidal movements, lunar phases, blood temperatures, diseases in general, everything, in fine, in nature’s vast workshop from the extinction of some remote sun to the blossoming of one of the countless flowers which beautify our public parks is subject to a law of numeration as yet unascertained.
he is reported by eyewitnesses as having stated that once a woman has let the cat into the bag (an esthete’s allusion, presumably, to one of the most complicated and marvellous of all nature’s processes — the act of sexual congress) she must let it out again or give it life, as he phrased it, to save her own.
lifemate
There are sins or (let us call them as the world calls them) evil memories which are hidden away by man in the darkest places of the heart but they abide there and wait. He may suffer their memory to grow dim, let them be as though they had not been and all but persuade himself that they were not or at least were otherwise. Yet a chance word will call them forth suddenly and they will rise up to confront him in the most various circumstances, a vision or a dream, or while timbrel and harp soothe his senses or amid the cool silver tranquility of the evening or at the feast, at midnight, when he
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The stranger still regarded on the face before him a slow recession of that false calm there, imposed, as it seemed, by habit or some studied trick, upon words so embittered as to accuse in their speaker an unhealthiness, a flair, for the cruder things of life. A scene disengages itself in the observer’s memory, evoked, it would seem, by a word of so natural a homeliness as if those days were really present there (as some thought) with their immediate pleasures.
Mark this farther and remember. The end comes suddenly. Enter that antechamber of birth where the studious are assembled and note their faces. Nothing, as it seems, there of rash or violent. Quietude of custody, rather, befitting their station in that house, the vigilant watch of shepherds and of angels about a crib in Bethlehem of Juda long ago. But as before the lightning the serried stormclouds, heavy with preponderant excess of moisture, in swollen masses turgidly distended, compass earth and sky in one vast slumber, impending above parched field and drowsy oxen and blighted growth of
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farraginous chronicle.
See! it displodes for thee in abundance. Drink, man, an udderful! Mother’s milk, Purefoy, the milk of human kin, milk too of those burgeoning stars overhead rutilant in thin rainvapour, punch milk, such as those rioters will quaff in their guzzling den, milk of madness, the honeymilk of Canaan’s land.
Proud possessor of damnall. Declare misery. Bet to the ropes.
Trumpery insanity.
(Private Carr and Private Compton turn and counterretort, their tunics bloodbright in a lampglow, black sockets of caps on their blond cropped polls. Stephen Dedalus and Lynch pass through the crowd close to the redcoats.)
Pornosophical
fatchuck cheekchops of jollypoldy the rixdix doldy.
True word spoken in jest.
Something poisonous I ate. Emblem of luck.
We’re a capital couple are Bloom and I. He brightens the earth. I polish the sky.
Gerty: (To Bloom) When you saw all the secrets of my bottom drawer. (She paws his sleeve, slobbering) Dirty married man! I love you for doing that to me.
Bloom: (Squire of dames, in dinner jacket with wateredsilk facings, blue masonic badge In his buttonhole, black bow And mother-of-pearl studs, a prismatic champagne glass tilted in his hand) Ladies and gentlemen, I give you Ireland, home and beauty.
Mrs Breen: (In a onepiece evening frock executed in moonlight blue, a tinsel sylph’s Diadem on her brow with her Dancecard fallen beside her moonblue satin slipper, curves her palm softly, breathing Quickly) Voglio e non. You’re hot! You’re scalding! The left hand nearest the heart.
Mrs Breen: (Her pulpy tongue between her lips, offers a pigeon kiss) Hnhn. The answer is a lemon. Have you a little present for me there? Bloom: (Offhandedly) Kosher. A snack for supper. The home without potted meat is incomplete. I was at Leah. Mrs Bandmann Palmer. Trenchant exponent of Shakespeare. Unfortunately threw away the programme. Rattling good place round there for pigs’ feet. Feel.
passionpale,
All these people. I meant only the spanking idea. A warm tingling glow without effusion. Refined birching to stimulate the circulation.
Wanted: Jack the Ripper. A thousand pounds reward.
Five guineas a jugular. Neck or nothing.
Bloom: (Desperately) Wait. Stop. Gulls. Good heart. I saw. Innocence. Girl in the monkeyhouse. Zoo. Lewd chimpanzee. (Breathlessly) Pelvic basin. Her artless blush unmanned me. (Overcome with emotion) I left the precincts. (He turns to a figure in the crowd, appealing) Hynes, may I speak to you? You know me. That three shillings you can keep. If you want a little more ... Hynes: (Coldly) You are a perfect stranger.
Bloom: No, no. Pig’s feet. I was at a funeral. First watch: (Draws his truncheon) Liar! (The beagle lifts his snout, showing the grey scorbutic face of paddy dignam. He has Gnawed all. He exhales a putrid Carcasefed breath. He grows to human size and shape. His dachshund coat Becomes a brown mortuary habit. His green eye Flashes bloodshot. Half of one ear, all the nose and both thumbs Are ghouleaten.) Paddy Dignam: (In a hollow voice) It is true. It was my funeral. Doctor Finucane pronounced life extinct when I succumbed to the disease from natural causes. (He lifts his mutilated ashen face
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(His skin, alert, feels her fingertips approach. A Hand glides over his left thigh.) Zoe: How’s the nuts? Bloom: Off side. Curiously they are on the right. Heavier, I suppose. One in a million my tailor, Mesias, says.
new world
Bloom: (Impassionedly) These flying Dutchmen or lying Dutchmen as they recline in their upholstered poop, casting dice, what reck they? Machines is their cry, their chimera, their panacea. Laboursaving apparatuses, supplanters, bugbears, manufactured monsters for mutual murder, hideous hobgoblins produced by a horde of capitalistic lusts upon our prostituted labour. The poor man starves while they are grassing their royal mountain stags or shooting peasants and phartridges in their purblind pomp of pelf and power. But their reign is rover for rever and ever and ev ...
The beaters approach with Imperial eagles hoisted, trailing banners and waving oriental palms.
Primate of all Ireland,
William, Archbishop of Armagh: (In purple stock and shovel hat) Will you to your power cause law and mercy to be executed in all your judgments in Ireland and territories thereunto belonging? Bloom: (Placing his right hand on his testicles, swears) So may the Creator deal with me. All this I promise to do.
Absence makes the heart grow younger.
Bloom: (Uncloaks impressively, revealing obesity, unrolls a paper and reads solemnly) Aleph Beth Ghimel Daleth Hagadah Tephilim Kosher Yom Kippur Hanukah Roschaschana Beni Brith Bar Mitzvah Mazzoth Askenazim Meshuggah Talith. (An official translation is read by jimmy henry, assistant town clerk.)
Jasperstone
Music without Words, pray for us
The green light wanes to mauve.
Sleep reveals the worst side of everyone, children perhaps excepted.
your bully’s cold spunk is dripping from your cockscomb.
Queens lay with prize bulls.
The mother: (With the subtle smile of death’s madness) I was once the beautiful May Goulding. I am dead.
More women than men in the world.
brainwork.
His (Stephen’s) mind was not exactly what you would call wandering but a bit unsteady
(notably a good burgundy which he was a staunch believer in)
Everybody gets their own ration of luck, they say.
Everyone according to his needs or everyone according to his deeds.
Stomachs like breadgraters. Cuts off their diddies when they can’t bear no more children. See them sitting there stark ballocknaked eating a dead horse’s liver raw.
— In a knockingshop it was count of a tryon between two smugglers. Fellow hid behind a door, come up behind him. Like that. Prepare to meet your god, says he. Chuk! It went into his back up to the butt. His heavy glance drowsily roaming about kind of defied their further questions even should they by any chance want to. — That’s a good bit of steel, repeated he, examining his formidable Stiletto. After which harrowing Denouement sufficient to appal the stoutest he snapped the blade to and stowed the weapon in question away as before in his chamber of horrors, otherwise pocket.
His questioner perceiving that he was not likely to get a great deal of change out of such a wily old customer, fell to woolgathering on the enormous dimensions of the water about the globe, suffice it to say that, as a casual glance at the map revealed, it covered fully three fourths of it and he fully realised accordingly what it meant to rule the waves.
