"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)
- 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." (U10.1071)
- They drove his wits astray, he said, by visions of hell. He will never capture the Attic note." (U10.1071)
"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..." (U10.1073)
"- Eternal punishment, Haines said, nodding curtly. I see. I tackled him this morning on belief. There was something on his mind, I saw. It's rather interesting because Professor Pokorny of Vienna makes an interesting point out of that.
Buck Mulligan's watchful eyes saw the waitress come. He helped her to unload her tray.
- He can find no trace of hell in ancient Irish myth, Haines said, amid the cheerful cups. The moral idea seems lacking, the sense of destiny, of retribution. Rather strange he should have just that fixed idea. Does he write anything for your movement?" (U10.1076)
Buck Mulligan's watchful eyes saw the waitress come. He helped her to unload her tray.
- He can find no trace of hell in ancient Irish myth, Haines said, amid the cheerful cups. The moral idea seems lacking, the sense of destiny, of retribution. Rather strange he should have just that fixed idea. Does he write anything for your movement?" (U10.1076)
"He sank two lumps of sugar deftly longwise through the whipped cream. Buck Mulligan slit a steaming scone in two and plastered butter over its smoking pith. He bit off a soft piece hungrily.
— Ten years, he said, chewing and laughing. He is going to write something in ten years." (U10.1086)
— Ten years, he said, chewing and laughing. He is going to write something in ten years." (U10.1086)
" — Seems a long way off, Haines said, thoughtfully lifting his spoon. Still, I shouldn't wonder if he did after all." (U10.1091)
"He tasted a spoonful from the creamy cone of his cup.
- This is real Irish cream I take it, he said with forbearance. I don't want to be imposed on." (U10.1093)
- This is real Irish cream I take it, he said with forbearance. I don't want to be imposed on." (U10.1093)
"Elijah, skiff, light crumpled throwaway, sailed eastward by flanks of ships and trawlers, amid an archipelago of corks, beyond new Wapping street past Benson's ferry," (U10.1096)
"and by the threemasted schooner Rosevean from Bridgwater with bricks." (U10.1098)
The Freeman's Journal lists the ships that arrived in Dublin the previous day. They include Rosevean, from Bridgewater, with bricks.
The Freeman's Journal lists the ships that arrived in Dublin the previous day. They include Rosevean, from Bridgewater, with bricks.
"Behind him Cashel Boyle O'Connor Fitzmaurice Tisdall Farrell, with stickumbrelladustcoat dangling, shunned the lamp before Mr Law Smith's house and, crossing, walked along Merrion square. Distantly behind him a blind stripling tapped his way by the wall of College park.
Cashel Boyle O'Connor Fitzmaurice Tisdall Farrell walked as far as Mr Lewis Werner's cheerful windows, then turned and strode back along Merrion square, his stickumbrelladustcoat dangling."(U10.1102)
Cashel Boyle O'Connor Fitzmaurice Tisdall Farrell walked as far as Mr Lewis Werner's cheerful windows, then turned and strode back along Merrion square, his stickumbrelladustcoat dangling."(U10.1102)
"At the corner of Wilde's he halted, frowned at Elijah's name announced on the Metropolitan Hall, frowned at the distant pleasance of duke's lawn. His eyeglass flashed frowning in the sun. With ratsteeth bared he muttered:
- Coactus volui.
He strode on for Clare street, grinding his fierce word." (U10.1108)
This later poster (I am not sure what year) advertises a meeting for Health & Housing in the Metropolitan Hall, Lower Abbey street.
- Coactus volui.
He strode on for Clare street, grinding his fierce word." (U10.1108)
This later poster (I am not sure what year) advertises a meeting for Health & Housing in the Metropolitan Hall, Lower Abbey street.
"As he strode past Mr Bloom's dental windows the sway of his dustcoat brushed rudely from its angle a slender tapping cane and swept onwards, having buffeted a thewless body. The blind stripling turned his sickly face after the striding form.
- God's curse on you, he said sourly, whoever you are! You're blinder nor I am, you bitch's bastard!" (U11.1114)
- God's curse on you, he said sourly, whoever you are! You're blinder nor I am, you bitch's bastard!" (U11.1114)