"Men like that. Love among the tombstones. Romeo. Spice of pleasure. In the midst of death we are in life. Both ends meet. Tantalising for the poor dead." (U6.758)
"Smell of grilled beefsteaks to the starving. Gnawing their vitals. Desire to grig people. Molly wanting to do it at the window. Eight children he has anyway.
He has seen a fair share go under in his time, lying around him field after field. Holy fields." (U6.760)
He has seen a fair share go under in his time, lying around him field after field. Holy fields." (U6.760)
"More room if they buried them standing. Sitting or kneeling you couldn't. Standing? His head might come up some day above ground in a landslip with his hand pointing. All honeycombed the ground must be: oblong cells." (U6.764)
"And very neat he keeps it too: trim grass and edgings. His garden Major Gamble calls Mount Jerome. Well, so it is." (U6.767)
"Ought to be flowers of sleep. Chinese cemeteries with giant poppies growing produce the best opium Mastiansky told me." (U6.768)
"The Botanic Gardens are just over there. It's the blood sinking in the earth gives new life. Same idea those jews they said killed the christian boy." (U6.770)
"Every man his price. Well preserved fat corpse, gentleman, epicure, invaluable for fruit garden. A bargain. By carcass of William Wilkinson, auditor and accountant, lately deceased, three pounds thirteen and six. With thanks." (U6.772)
"I daresay the soil would be quite fat with corpse manure, bones, flesh, nails. Charnelhouses. Dreadful. Turning green and pink, decomposing. Rot quick in damp earth. The lean old ones tougher. Then a kind of a tallowy kind of a cheesy." (U6.776)
"Then begin to get black, black treacle oozing out of them. Then dried up. Deathmoths. Of course the cells or whatever they are go on living. Changing about. Live for ever practically. Nothing to feed on feed on themselves.
But they must breed a devil of a lot of maggots. Soil must be simply swirling with them." (U6.779)
But they must breed a devil of a lot of maggots. Soil must be simply swirling with them." (U6.779)
"Your head it simply swurls. Those pretty little seaside gurls. He looks cheerful enough over it. Gives him a sense of power seeing all the others go under first. Wonder how he looks at life. Cracking his jokes too: warms the cockles of his heart." (U6.784)
"The one about the bulletin. Spurgeon went to heaven 4 a.m. this morning. 11 p.m. (closing time). Not arrived yet. Peter." (U6.787)
"The dead themselves the men anyhow would like to hear an odd joke or the women to know what's in fashion. A juicy pear or ladies' punch, hot, strong and sweet. Keep out the damp. You must laugh sometimes so better do it that way." (U6.789)
"Gravediggers in Hamlet." (U6.792)
[Bloom may have just glanced at the grave of Barry Sullivan (1821 - 1891). Sullivan was a famous Irish stage actor who was active in England, Ireland and Australia. He was born in Birmingham but his parents were from Cork. The statue shows him in character as Prince Hamlet].
[Bloom may have just glanced at the grave of Barry Sullivan (1821 - 1891). Sullivan was a famous Irish stage actor who was active in England, Ireland and Australia. He was born in Birmingham but his parents were from Cork. The statue shows him in character as Prince Hamlet].
"Shows the profound knowledge of the human heart. Daren't joke about the dead for two years at least. De mortuis nil nisi prius. Go out of mourning first." (U6.792)
[Bloom misquotes the Latin phrase De mortuis nihil nisi bonum = Of the dead, [say] nothing but good. This mortuary aphorism states that it is inappropriate to speak ill of the dead as they are unable to justify or defend themselves. The phrase was coined by Chilon of Sparta, ca. 600 BC.]
[Bloom misquotes the Latin phrase De mortuis nihil nisi bonum = Of the dead, [say] nothing but good. This mortuary aphorism states that it is inappropriate to speak ill of the dead as they are unable to justify or defend themselves. The phrase was coined by Chilon of Sparta, ca. 600 BC.]
"Hard to imagine his funeral. Seems a sort of a joke. Read your own obituary notice they say you live longer. Gives you second wind. New lease of life.
- How many have you for tomorrow? the caretaker asked.
- Two, Corny Kelleher said. Half ten and eleven.
The caretaker put the papers in his pocket. The barrow had ceased to trundle. The mourners split and moved to each side of the hole, stepping with care round the graves. The gravediggers bore the coffin and set its nose on the brink, looping the bands round it.
Burying him. We come to bury Caesar. His ides of March or June.
He doesn't know who is here nor care." (U6.795)
- How many have you for tomorrow? the caretaker asked.
- Two, Corny Kelleher said. Half ten and eleven.
The caretaker put the papers in his pocket. The barrow had ceased to trundle. The mourners split and moved to each side of the hole, stepping with care round the graves. The gravediggers bore the coffin and set its nose on the brink, looping the bands round it.
Burying him. We come to bury Caesar. His ides of March or June.
He doesn't know who is here nor care." (U6.795)
"Now who is that lankylooking galoot over there in the macintosh?
Now who is he I'd like to know? Now I'd give a trifle to know who he is. Always someone turns up you never dreamt of." (U6.805)
Now who is he I'd like to know? Now I'd give a trifle to know who he is. Always someone turns up you never dreamt of." (U6.805)