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The cars came scudding in towards Dublin, running evenly like pellets in the groove of the Naas Road. At the crest of the hill at Inchicore sightseers had gathered in clumps to watch the cars careering homeward and through this channel of poverty and inaction the Continent sped its wealth and industry.

She sat at the window watching the evening invade the avenue. He head was leaned against the window curtains and in her nostrils was odour of dusty cretonne. She was tired.

Lord, how she loved it! She had completely forgotten where she was; she'd stopped Costel's hand in hers long ago, her whole body and the world around her had disappeared, like hallucinations, like universes where no one had ever been born, where no one would ever understand, ever.... She was inside the movie.

It was completely still. It was very silent. There was the ink pot: there was the pen; there was the manuscript of her poem, broken off in the middle of a tribute to eternity. She had been about to say, when Basket and Bartholomew interrupted with the tea things, nothing
changes. And then, in the space of three seconds and a half, everything
had changed--she had broken her ankle, fallen in love, married
Shelmerdine.

The great cloud which hung, not only over London, but over the whole of the British Isles on the first day of the nineteenth century stayed or rather did not stay, for it was buffeted about constantly by blistering gales, long enough to have eextraordinary consequences upon those who lived beneath its shadow.

The silence is more profound after noise still wants the confirmation of science. But the loneliness is more apparent directly after one has been made loveto, many women would take their oath.

It is, indeed, highly unfortunate, and much to be regretted that at this stage of Orlando's career, when he played a most important part in the public life of his country, we have least information to go upon.

Orlando looked no more. He dashed downhill. He let himself in a wicket gate. He tore up the winding staircase. He reached his room. He tossed his stockings to one side of the room, his jerkin to the other. He diped his head. He scoured his hands. He pated his finger nails.

The truth was that Jay Gatsby of West Egg, Long Island, sprang from his Platonic conception of himself. He was a son of God—a phrase which, if it means anything, means just that—and he must be about His Father’s business, the service of a vast, vulgar, and meretricious beauty. So he invented just the sort of Jay Gatsby that a seventeen-year-old boy would be likely to invent, and to this conception he was faithful....

Once I wrote down on the empty spaces of a time-table the names of those who came to Gatsby's house that summer. It is an old time-table now, distintegrating at his folds, and headed 'This schedule in effect July 5th, 1922.' But I can still read the grey names, and they will give you a better impression than my genralities of those who accepted Gatsby's hospitality and paid him the subtle tribute of knowing nothing..

In her imagination, the hideous U-shaped object, made of a waxy substance as pik as vomit, spaced by inhuman wires and teeth, was Leon's secret lover, with whom the virile crystal engaged in monstrous copulations. In the morning, Melanine drank the water from the glass, so the srystal seed would pass into her and live as long as he had waited in the bottom of the earth, among the mine-flower pearls,....

How strange, how bright that chep lipstick was, candy-flavored, on her young lips, below her chestnut eyes! Under the sky racing overhead like unraveling black smoke, she was the only thing with any color or life.

The birds watched Maria with their jewel-colored eyes- emerald (the peahen), sapphire, and ruby. She laughed and called to them, or let a "goddamn it" slip out when one pecked her plump, girly fingers.

The rose jam gave me a dizzying pain at the bridge of my nose. I finished the jam, and now I distractedly scratched the spoon against the thick glass plate, dotted with syrup. Hermann. How strangely everything was starting to connect! I had always hoped my life would go differently than anyone's else, that it would have a meaning, a meaning that perhaps I couldn't grasp, but that was visible from somewhere high up,

I looked back at my cousin, who began to ask me questions in her low, thrilling voice. It was the kind of voice that the ear follows up and down, as if each speech is an arrangement of notes that will never be played again.

I lay in my bed until an intense night fell, cut in pieces by electric stripes on the ceiling and walls, sparks from the trams on Stefan cel Mare. I was excited and sad.

In Ithaca: part 3

Circe part two

Circe-Part 1

The past is everything, the future nothing, and time has no other meaning. An animal, small and compact, a single particle a billion times smaller than a quark, and a billion billion times hotter than the centre of the sun, encompassed the entire design that our mind percevies in the moment it is given to perceive, uniting in the breath of a single force,

Odysseus

Odysseus

The idol

The demons, petrified once the angelic psalms began, now scurried to the well of transparent earth. They drove inside, grabbing on to windpipes of light, trailing meters of intestines from their slit stomachs, and leaving behind mounds of vomit and blood before becoming smaller and smaller and disappearing into the dark

The cursed children

A line of sleighs without bells, pulled by small, puffy-maned hprses with hooves wrapped in strips of leather, led the entire Badislav Clan to salvation- their bold and hearty infants and women, their sacks of grain, hanks of lard- smothered pork, and the vestments, icons and stoles for the priest, who sat dresses like an ordinary peasant and lashed the mare' shiny brown back while she plodded calmly betwenn the rein

Mother and Son

Carthage

Siddhartha went to see Kamaswami, the merchant, and was shown into a rich house. Servants conducted him across costly carpets to a room where he waited for the master of the house.

Dorian Gray threw his hat and coat upon the table, and passed into the libraray. For a quarter of an hour he walked up and down the room biting his lip, and thinking. Then he took down the Blue Book from one of the shelves, and began to turn over the leaves. "Alan Campbell, 152, Hertford Street, Mayfair." Yes, that was the man he wanted.