Bloomsday Quotes

“God made women too beautiful and their memories too long.”
― David B. Lentz, Bloomsday: A Tragicomedy

“The Housefly

I’m just a little pesky thing,
Flying to eke out a living.
So round and round and round I hiss,
And fill the air with busy bliss.
Of hand and swatter steering clear,
I venture to light on crumbs and beer.
In salad days I was a Grecian king.
War and famine make me sing.
How much they’d like to whack me flat,
With a newspaper or even a baseball bat.
Splat!”
― David B. Lentz, Bloomsday: A Tragicomedy

“God in His infinite wisdom blessed humans with redundant tongues: one to outfit the mouth for speech. And a mother tongue to give it meaning... Though it wags out such inconceivable beauty, attached to the mother tongue lies one much maligned woman.”
― David B. Lentz, Bloomsday: The Bostoniad

“Tim Finnegan’s Wake
by Dr. Thom Dedalus

When God reeled in good auld Tim Finnegan,
And looked into his green Irish peepers,
Said He, “Now, what was I thinkin’?
Poor lad, he ain’t one of the keepers.”

To hell Tim descended without any fear,
To the devil, whom not much is lost on,
Said he, “I’m sure you’ll be comfortable here,
Among all your old friends from South Boston.”

Tim’s jokes night and day caused Satan to swear,
As migraines crept behind blood red eyelids,
“An eternity with you is just too much to bear.
You’re going home to your wife and your nine kids.”

So up pops Tim at his wake from his casket.
“It can’t be,” went a howl from his wife.
When he belched the sea from his own breadbasket,
Said she, “Someone, hand me a knife.”

Now Tim’s fishing off George’s Banks
Catching codfish, haddock and hake.
The happiest folk in town to give thanks,
Is John Hancock for Finnegan’s wake.

Finn’s now a legend among life underwriters,
In Beantown and all over the States.
In him beats the heart of a fighter.
Sad to hear how they increased his rates.

Finn’s tale is best told with a dram of Jameson.
You’re entitled to whatever sense you can make.
Just cause you’re dead, it don’t mean you’re gone.
You may take comfort in Finnegan’s wake.”
― David B. Lentz, Bloomsday: The Bostoniad

“To B-major or B-minor: that is the question. Consider that the major and minor chords are separated by the smallest tonal step which is one half-step carrying in its pitch the gravity of all humanity which needs the major to recognize its relative, inherent tragedy which once given expression seeks the resurrection that only the major can procreate which self-expression gives beauty to the harmony of the major which then confirms the whole truth of the tragic minor saga which overcomes the hidden hand of destiny in the great ellipse of being and the greater cosmic void of nothingness which passage of time has sadly destined to be replayed in the same octave of the ineluctable modality of the audible which ellipse with such a simple twist resonates as infinity which is both meaningless beyond all human capacity for understanding but which holds within it the ubiquitous mystic beauty and truth of the pulsing human heart.”
― David B. Lentz, Bloomsday: The Bostoniad