"Those literary ethereal people they are all. Dreamy, cloudy, symbolistic. Esthetes they are." (U8.543)
""I wouldn't be surprised if it was that kind of food you see produces the like waves of the brain the poetical. For example one of those policemen sweating Irish stew into their shirts you couldn't squeeze a line of poetry out of him. Don't know what poetry is even. Must be in a certain mood.
The dreamy cloudy gull
Waves o'er the waters dull." (U8.544)
"He crossed at Nassau street corner and stood before the window of Yeates and Son, pricing the field glasses. Or will I drop into old Harris's and have a chat with young Sinclair? Wellmannered fellow. Probably at his lunch." ([U8.551])
(Image courtesy of the ZJJF)
"Must get those old glasses of mine set right. Goerz lenses six guineas. Germans making their way everywhere. Sell on easy terms to capture trade. Undercutting. Might chance on a pair in the railway lost property office." (U8.554)
"Astonishing the things people leave behind them in trains and cloak rooms. What do they be thinking about? Women too. Incredible. Last year travelling to Ennis had to pick up that farmer's daughter's bag and hand it to her at Limerick junction. Unclaimed money too. There's a little watch up there on the roof of the bank to test those glasses by.
His lids came down on the lower rims of his irises. Can't see it. If you imagine it's there you can almost see it. Can't see it." (U8.557)
"He faced about and, standing between the awnings, held out his right hand at arm's length towards the sun. Wanted to try that often. Yes: completely. The tip of his little finger blotted out the sun's disk. Must be the focus where the rays cross. If I had black glasses. Interesting." (U8.564)
"There was a lot of talk about those sunspots when we were in Lombard street west. Looking up from the back garden. Terrific explosions they are." (U8.567)
"There will be a total eclipse this year: autumn some time." (U8.569)
Bloom is correct. There will be a total eclipse of the sun Sep 9th 1904 at 20:44, lasting 6min and 20sec.
"Now that I come to think of it, that ball falls at Greenwich time. It's the clock is worked by an electric wire from Dunsink. Must go out there some first Saturday of the month. If I could get an introduction to professor Joly or learn up something about his family. That would do to: man always feels complimented. Flattery where least expected. Nobleman proud to be descended from some king's mistress. His foremother. Lay it on with a trowel." (U8.571)
"Cap in hand goes through the land. Not go in and blurt out what you know you're not to: what's parallax?" (U8.577)
"Show this gentleman the door.
His hand fell to his side again.
Never know anything about it. Waste of time. Gasballs spinning about, crossing each other, passing. Same old dingdong always. Gas: then solid: then world: then cold: then dead shell drifting around, frozen rock, like that pineapple rock." (U8.578)
"The moon. Must be a new moon out, she said. I believe there is.
He went on by la maison Claire." (U8.584)
"Wait. The full moon was the night we were Sunday fortnight exactly there is a new moon." (U8.587)
This is a Hold-To Lights (HTL) PC of the Die Cut kind. Such cards have 3 layers: the top one has the picture with areas cut out, the middle layer is thin colored tissue paper, and the bottom layer is the Address backing. When held up to a strong light, the cutout portions (here the moon, windows, street and tram lights) appear brightly illuminated. Most were published in Germany.
"Walking down by the Tolka. Not bad for a Fairview moon. She was humming. The young May moon she's beaming, love." (U8.588)
"He other side of her. Elbow, arm. He. Glowworm's la-amp is gleaming, love. Touch. Fingers. Asking. Answer. Yes.
Stop. Stop. If it was it was. Must.
Mr Bloom, quickbreathing, slowlier walking passed Adam court." (U8.589)
"She was humming. The young May moon she's beaming, love." (U8.589)
The song 'The Young May Moon' has Lyrics by Thomas Moore (1779 -1852) in Irish Melodies and Music by William Percy French (1854 – 1920):
''The young May moon is beaming love
The glow-worm's lamp is gleaming love
How sweet to rove through Morna's grove
While the drowsy world is dreaming love
Then awake, the heavens look bright my dear
'Tis never too late for delight my dear
And the best of all ways to lengthen our days
Is to steal a few hours from the night my dear
Now all the world is sleeping, love.
But the Sage, his star-watch keeping, love,
And I, whose star, More glorious far,
Is the eye from that casement peeping, love.
Then awake! - Till rise of sun, my dear,
The Sage's glass we'll shun, my dear.
Or, in watching the flight
Of bodies of light,
He might happen to take thee for one, my dear."