"He sprang it open with his thumb and offered it.
— Thank you, Stephen said, taking a cigarette. Haines helped himself and snapped the case to. He put it back in his sidepocket and took from his waistcoatpocket a nickel tinderbox, sprang it open too, and, having lit his cigarette, held the flaming spunk towards Stephen in the shell of his hands.
— Yes, of course, he said, as they went on again. Either you believe or you don't, isn't it? Personally I couldn't stomach that idea of a personal God. You don't stand for that, I suppose?
— You behold in me, Stephen said with grim displeasure, a horrible example of free thought.
He walked on, waiting to be spoken to, trailing his ashplant by his side. Its ferrule followed lightly on the path, squealing at his heels. My familiar, after me, calling, Steeeeeeeeeeeephen! A wavering line along the path. They will walk on it tonight, coming here in the dark." (U1.616)
"He wants that key. It is mine. I paid the rent. Now I eat his salt bread. Give him the key too. All. He will ask for it. That was in his eyes." (U1.630)
"- After all, Haines began...
Stephen turned and saw that the cold gaze which had measured him was not all unkind.
- After all, I should think you are able to free yourself. You are your own master, it seems to me." (U1.633)
"- I am the servant of two masters, Stephen said, an English and an Italian.
- Italian? Haines said.
A crazy queen, old and jealous. Kneel down before me.
- And a third, Stephen said, there is who wants me for odd jobs." (U1.638)
"- Italian? Haines said again. What do you mean?" (U1.642)

Pope Pius X (1835 - 1914), born Giuseppe Melchiorre Sarto, was Pope 1903 - 1914. His pontificate was noted for its conservative theology and reforms in liturgy and church law. He was canonized in 1954.
"- The imperial British state, Stephen answered, his colour rising, and the holy Roman catholic and apostolic church." (U1.643)

A PC of Edward VII and Alexandra as imperial Irish monarchs, surrounded by the symbols of Ireland, the Viceregal Lodge, Kingstown, and the City Arms and motto of Dublin.
"Haines detached from his underlip some fibres of tobacco before he spoke.
— I can quite understand that, he said calmly. An Irishman must think like that, I daresay. We feel in England that we have treated you rather unfairly. It seems history is to blame.
The proud potent titles clanged over Stephen's memory the triumph of their brazen bells: et unam sanctam catholicam et apostolicam ecclesiam: the slow growth and change of rite and dogma like his own rare thoughts, a chemistry of stars." (U1.645)
"Symbol of the apostles in the mass for pope Marcellus, the voices blended, singing alone loud in affirmation: and behind their chant the vigilant angel of the church militant disarmed and menaced her heresiarchs." (U1.653)
"A horde of heresies fleeing with mitres awry: Photius and the brood of mockers of whom Mulligan was one, and Arius, warring his life long upon the consubstantiality of the Son with the Father, and Valentine, spurning Christ's terrene body, and the subtle African heresiarch Sabellius who held that the Father was Himself His own Son. Words Mulligan had spoken a moment since in mockery to the stranger. Idle mockery." (U1.656)
"The void awaits surely all them that weave the wind: a menace, a disarming and a worsting from those embattled angels of the church, Michael's host, who defend her ever in the hour of conflict with their lances and their shields.
Hear, hear! Prolonged applause. Zut! Nom de Dieu!
- Of course I'm a Britisher, Haines's voice said, and I feel as one. I don't want to see my country fall into the hands of German jews either. That's our national problem, I'm afraid, just now." (1.661)
"Two men stood at the verge of the cliff, watching: businessman, boatman.
- She's making for Bullock harbour.
The boatman nodded towards the north of the bay with some disdain.
- There's five fathoms out there, he said. It'll be swept up that way when the tide comes in about one. It's nine days today." (U1.669)
"The man that was drowned. A sail veering about the blank bay waiting for a swollen bundle to bob up, roll over to the sun a puffy face, saltwhite. Here I am.
They followed the winding path down to the creek. Buck Mulligan stood on a stone, in shirtsleeves, his unclipped tie rippling over his shoulder. A young man clinging to a spur of rock near him moved slowly frogwise his green legs in the deep jelly of the water." (U1.675)
"- Is the brother with you, Malachi?
- Down in Westmeath. With the Bannons.
- Still there? I got a card from Bannon. Says he found a sweet young thing down there. Photo girl he calls her.
- Snapshot, eh? Brief exposure." (U1.682)
Buck Mulligan sat down to unlace his boots. An elderly man shot up near the spur of rock a blowing red face. He scrambled up by the stones, water glistening on his pate and on its garland of grey hair, water rilling over his chest and paunch and spilling jets out of his black sagging loincloth.
Buck Mulligan made way for him to scramble past and, glancing at Haines and Stephen, crossed himself piously with his thumbnail at brow and lips and breastbone." (U1.687)
"- Seymour's back in town, the young man said, grasping again his spur of rock. Chucked medicine and going in for the army.
- Ah, go to God! Buck Mulligan said.
- Going over next week to stew. You know that red Carlisle girl, Lily?
- Yes.
- Spooning with him last night on the pier. The father is rotto with money.
- Is she up the pole?
- Better ask Seymour that.
- Seymour a bleeding officer! Buck Mulligan said." (U1.695)
"He nodded to himself as he drew off his trousers and stood up, saying tritely:
- Redheaded women buck like goats." (U1.704)
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