按键盘上方向键 ← 或 → 可快速上下翻页，按键盘上的 Enter 键可回到本书目录页，按键盘上方向键 ↑ 可回到本页顶部！
————未阅读完？加入书签已便下次继续阅读！
gold and still they have all the gold。 Swindle in it somewhere。 Piled up in cities； worn away age after age。 Pyramids in sand。 Built on bread and onions。 Slaves。 Chinese wall。 Babylon。 Big stones left。 Round towers。 Rest rubble； sprawling suburbs； jerrybuilt； Kerwan's mushroom houses； built of breeze。 Shelter for the night。
No one is anything。
This is the very worst hour of the day。 Vitality。 Dull； gloomy： hate this hour。 Feel as if I had been eaten and spewed。
Provost's house。 The reverend Dr Salmon： tinned salmon。 Well tinned in there。 Wouldn't live in it if they paid me。 Hope they have liver and bacon today。 Nature abhors a vacuum。
The sun freed itself slowly and lit glints of light among the silver ware in Walter Sexton's window opposite by which John Howard Parnell passed； unseeing。
There he is： the brother。 Image of him。 Haunting face。 Now that's a coincidence。 Course hundreds of times you think of a person and don't meet him。 Like a man walking in his sleep。 No…one knows him。 Must be a corporation meeting today。 They say he never put on the city marshal's uniform since he got the job。 Charley Boulger used to e out on his high horse； cocked hat； puffed； powdered and shaved。 Look at the woebegone walk of him。 Eaten a bad egg。 Poached eyes on ghost。 I have a pain。 Great man's brother： his brother's brother。 He'd look nice on the city charger。 Drop into the D。 B。 C。 probably for his coffee； play chess there。 His brother used men as pawns。 Let them all go to pot。 Afraid to pass a remark on him。 Freeze them up with that eye of his。 That's the fascination： the name。 All a bit touched。 Mad Fanny and his other sister Mrs Dickinson driving about with scarlet harness。 Bolt upright like surgeon M'Ardle。 Still David Sheehy beat him for south Meath。 Apply for the Chiltern Hundreds and retire into public life。 The patriot's banquet。 Eating orangepeels in the park。 Simon Dedalus said when they put him in parliament that Parnell would e back from the grave and lead him out of the House of mons by the arm。
Of the twoheaded octopus； one of whose heads is the head upon which the ends of the world have forgotten to e while the other speaks with a Scotch accent。 The tentacles。。。
They passed from behind Mr Bloom along the curbstone。 Beard and bicycle。 Young woman。
And there he is too。 Now that's really a coincidence： second…time。 ing events cast their shadows before。 With the approval of the eminent poet Mr Geo Russell。 That might be Lizzie Twigg with him。 A。 E。： what does that mean？ Initials perhaps。 Albert Edward； Arthur Edmund； Alphonsus Eb Ed El Esquire。 What was he saying？ The ends of the world with a Scotch accent。 Tentacles： octopus。 Something occult： symbolism。 Holding forth。 She's taking it all in。 Not saying a word。 To aid gentleman in literary work。
His eyes followed the high figure in homespun； beard and bicycle； a listening woman at his side。 ing from the vegetarian。 Only weggebobbles and fruit。 Don't eat a beefsteak。 If you do the eyes of that cow will pursue you through all eternity。 They say it's healthier。 Wind and watery though。 Tried it。 Keep you on the run all day。 Bad as a bloater。 Dreams all night。 Why do they call that thing they gave me nutsteak？ Nutarians。 Fruitarians。 To give you the idea you are eating rumpsteak。 Absurd。 Salty too。 They cook in soda。 Keep you sitting by the tap all night。
Her stockings are loose over her ankles。 I detest that： so tasteless； Those literary etherial people they are all。 Dreamy； cloudy； symbolistic。 Esthetes they are。 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。
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？ Well…mannered fellow。 Probably at his lunch。 Must get those old glasses of mine set right。 Grz 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。 Astonishing the things people leave behind them in trains and cloak rooms。 What do they be thinking about？ Women too。 Incredible。 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 irides。 Can't see it。 If you imagine it's there you can almost see it。 Can't see it。
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： pletely。 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。 There was a lot of talk about those sunspots when we were in Lombard street west。 Terrific explosions they are。 There will be a total eclipse this year： autumn some time。
Now that I e 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 art introduction to professor Joly or learn up something about his family。 That would do to： man always feels plimented。 Flattery where least expected。 Nobleman proud to be descended from some king's mistress。 His foremother。 Lay it on with a trowel。 Cap in hand goes through the land。 Not go in and blurt out what you know you're not to： what's parallax？ Show this gentleman the door。
Ah。
His hand fell again to his side。
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。 The moon。 Must be a new moon； she said。 I believe there is。
He went on by la Maison Claire。
Wait。 The full moon was the night we were Sunday fortnight exactly there is a new moon。 Walking down by the Tolka。 Not bad for a Fairview moon。 She was humming： The young May moon she's beaming； love。 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； quick breathing； slowlier walking； passed Adam court。
With a keep quiet relief； his eyes took note： this is street here middle of the day Bob Doran's bottle shoulders。 On his annual bend； M'Coy said。 They drink in order to say or do something or cherchez la femme。 Up in the Coombe with chummies and streetwalkers and then the rest of the year as sober as a judge。
Yes。 Thought so。 Sloping into the Empire。 Gone。 Plain soda would do him good。 Where Pat Kinsella had his Harp theatre before Whitbred ran the Queen's。 Broth of a boy。 Dion Boucicault business with his harvestmoon face in a poky bonnet。 Three Purty Maids from School。 How time flies eh？ Showing long red pantaloons und