"There he is. Hook it quick. Pull. Sunk though he be beneath the watery floor. Milton We have him. Easy now.
Bag of corpsegas sopping in foul brine. A quiver of minnows, fat of a spongy titbit, flash through the slits of his buttoned trouserfly. God becomes man becomes fish becomes barnacle goose becomes featherbed mountain." (U3.473)