"Hell open to christians they were having, Jimmy Henry said pettishly, about their damned Irish language. Where was the marshal, he wanted to know, to keep order in the council chamber. And old Barlow the macebearer laid up with asthma, no mace on the table, nothing in order, no quorum even," (U10.1006)
"and Hutchinson, the lord mayor, in Llandudno and little Lorcan Sherlock doing locum tenens for him. Damned Irish language, language of our forefathers." (U10.1010)
"Long John Fanning blew a plume of smoke from his lips.
Martin Cunningham spoke by turns, twirling the peak of his beard, to the assistant town clerk and the subsheriff, while John Wyse Nolan held his peace.
- What Dignam was that? Long John Fanning asked." (U10.1013)
"Jimmy Henry made a grimace and lifted his left foot.
- O, my corns! he said plaintively. Come upstairs for goodness' sake till I sit down somewhere. Uff! Ooo! Mind!
Testily he made room for himself beside Long John Fanning's flank and passed in and up the stairs." (U10.1018)
"Clatter of horsehoofs sounded from the air.
- What's that? Martin Cunningham said.
All turned where they stood. John Wyse Nolan came down again. From the cool shadow of the doorway he saw the horses pass Parliament street, harness and glossy pasterns in sunlight shimmering. Gaily they went past before his cool unfriendly eyes, not quickly." (U10.1031)
"In saddles of the leaders, leaping leaders, rode outriders.
- What was it? Martin Cunningham asked, as they went on up the staircase.
- The lord lieutenant general and general governor of Ireland, John Wyse Nolan answered from the stairfoot." (U10.1036)
" *** " (U10.1042)
"As they trod across the thick carpet Buck Mulligan whispered behind his Panama to Haines: - Parnell's brother. There in the corner. They chose a small table near the window, opposite a longfaced man whose beard and gaze hung intently down on a chessboard.
- Is that he? Haines asked, twisting round in his seat.
- Yes, Mulligan said. That's John Howard, his brother, our city marshal.
John Howard Parnell translated a white bishop quietly and his grey claw went up again to his forehead whereat it rested. An instant after, under its screen, his eyes looked quickly, ghostbright, at his foe and fell once more upon a working corner." (U10.1043)
"- I'll take a mélange, Haines said to the waitress.
- Two mélanges, Buck Mulligan said. And bring us some scones and butter and some cakes as well.
When she had gone he said, laughing:" (U10.1054)
"- We call it D.B.C. because they have damn bad cakes. O, but you missed Dedalus on Hamlet." (U10.1058)

D.B.C. stand for Dublin Bread Company. The company had a branch on Dame street, where Mulligan and Haines are eating. There was another branch on Sackville street, seen here on the right side of Sackville street
and after it was ruined during the Sinn Fein revolt of 1916.
"Haines opened his newbought book.
- I'm sorry, he said. Shakespeare is the happy huntingground of all minds that have lost their balance." (U10.1060)
"The onelegged sailor growled at the area of 14 Nelson street:
- England expects..." (U10.1063)
"The onelegged sailor growled at the area of 14 Nelson street:
- England expects..." (U10.1063)
"Buck Mulligan's primrose waistcoat shook gaily to his laughter.
- You should see him, he said, when his body loses its balance. Wandering Ængus I call him.
- I am sure he has an idée fixe, Haines said, pinching his chin thoughtfully with thumb and forefinger. Now I am speculating what it would be likely to be. Such persons always have." (U10.1065)
"Buck Mulligan bent across the table gravely.
- They drove his wits astray, he said, by visions of hell. He will never capture the Attic note. The note of Swinburne, of all poets, the white death and the ruddy birth. That is his tragedy. He can never be a poet. The joy of creation..." (U10.1071)
Wandering Rocks Pages: