"He tapped his chest sadly.
Blazing face: redhot. Too much John Barleycorn. Cure for a red nose. Drink like the devil till it turns adelite. A lot of money he spent colouring it.
Mr Power gazed at the passing houses with rueful apprehension.
- He had a sudden death, poor fellow, he said.
- The best death, Mr Bloom said.
Their wideopen eyes looked at him.
- No suffering, he said. A moment and all is over. Like dying in sleep.
No-one spoke." (U6.306)