- Introibo ad altare Dei.
Halted, he peered down the dark winding stairs and called up coarsely:
- Come up, Kinch! Come up, you fearful jesuit!
Solemnly he came forward and mounted the round gunrest." (U1.1)
Buck Mulligan peeped an instant under the mirror and then covered the bowl smartly.
- Back to barracks! he said sternly." (U1.11)
- For this, O dearly beloved, is the genuine Christine: body and soul and blood and ouns. Slow music, please. Shut your eyes, gents. One moment. A little trouble about those white corpuscles. Silence, all." (U1.20)
- Thanks, old chap, he cried briskly. That will do nicely. Switch off the current, will you?
He skipped off the gunrest and looked gravely at his watcher, gathering about his legs the loose folds of his gown." (U1.26)
- The mockery of it! he said gaily. Your absurd name, an ancient Greek!
He pointed his finger in friendly jest and went over to the parapet, laughing to himself. Stephen Dedalus stepped up, followed him wearily halfway and sat down on the edge of the gunrest, watching him still as he propped his mirror on the parapet, dipped the brush in the bowl and lathered cheeks and neck.
Buck Mulligan's gay voice went on.
- My name is absurd too: Malachi Mulligan, two dactyls. But it has a Hellenic ring, hasn't it? Tripping and sunny like the buck himself. We must go to Athens. Will you come if I can get the aunt to fork out twenty quid?
He laid the brush aside and, laughing with delight, cried:
- Will he come? The jejune jesuit!
Ceasing, he began to shave with care.
- Tell me, Mulligan, Stephen said quietly.
- Yes, my love?
- How long is Haines going to stay in this tower?
Buck Mulligan showed a shaven cheek over his right shoulder." (U1.31)
- God, isn't he dreadful? he said frankly. A ponderous Saxon. He thinks you're not a gentleman. God, these bloody English! Bursting with money and indigestion." (U1.50)
He shaved warily over his chin." (U1.53)
- A woful lunatic! Mulligan said. Were you in a funk?
- I was, Stephen said with energy and growing fear. Out here in the dark with a man I don't know raving and moaning to himself about shooting a black panther. You saved men from drowning." (U1.57)
Buck Mulligan frowned at the lather on his razorblade. He hopped down from his perch and began to search his trouser pockets hastily.
- Scutter! he cried thickly.
He came over to the gunrest and, thrusting a hand into Stephen's upper pocket, said:
- Lend us a loan of your noserag to wipe my razor." (U1.62)
Then, gazing over the handkerchief, he said:
- The bard's noserag! A new art colour for our Irish poets: snotgreen. You can almost taste it, can't you?' (U1.70)
- God! he said quietly. Isn't the sea what Algy calls it: a great sweet mother? The snotgreen sea. The scrotumtightening sea. Epi oinopa ponton." (U1.75)