Ulysses eBook

This eBook from the Gutenberg Project consists of approximately 997 pages of information about Ulysses.

Ulysses eBook

This eBook from the Gutenberg Project consists of approximately 997 pages of information about Ulysses.

—­Up the Boers!

—­Three cheers for De Wet!

—­We’ll hang Joe Chamberlain on a sourapple tree.

Silly billies:  mob of young cubs yelling their guts out.  Vinegar hill.  The Butter exchange band.  Few years’ time half of them magistrates and civil servants.  War comes on:  into the army helterskelter:  same fellows used to.  Whether on the scaffold high.

Never know who you’re talking to.  Corny Kelleher he has Harvey Duff in his eye.  Like that Peter or Denis or James Carey that blew the gaff on the invincibles.  Member of the corporation too.  Egging raw youths on to get in the know all the time drawing secret service pay from the castle.  Drop him like a hot potato.  Why those plainclothes men are always courting slaveys.  Easily twig a man used to uniform.  Squarepushing up against a backdoor.  Maul her a bit.  Then the next thing on the menu.  And who is the gentleman does be visiting there?  Was the young master saying anything?  Peeping Tom through the keyhole.  Decoy duck.  Hotblooded young student fooling round her fat arms ironing.

—­Are those yours, Mary?

—­I don’t wear such things ...  Stop or I’ll tell the missus on you. 
Out half the night.

—­There are great times coming, Mary.  Wait till you see.

—­Ah, gelong with your great times coming.

Barmaids too.  Tobaccoshopgirls.

James Stephens’ idea was the best.  He knew them.  Circles of ten so that a fellow couldn’t round on more than his own ring.  Sinn Fein.  Back out you get the knife.  Hidden hand.  Stay in.  The firing squad.  Turnkey’s daughter got him out of Richmond, off from Lusk.  Putting up in the Buckingham Palace hotel under their very noses.  Garibaldi.

You must have a certain fascination:  Parnell.  Arthur Griffith is a squareheaded fellow but he has no go in him for the mob.  Or gas about our lovely land.  Gammon and spinach.  Dublin Bakery Company’s tearoom.  Debating societies.  That republicanism is the best form of government.  That the language question should take precedence of the economic question.  Have your daughters inveigling them to your house.  Stuff them up with meat and drink.  Michaelmas goose.  Here’s a good lump of thyme seasoning under the apron for you.  Have another quart of goosegrease before it gets too cold.  Halffed enthusiasts.  Penny roll and a walk with the band.  No grace for the carver.  The thought that the other chap pays best sauce in the world.  Make themselves thoroughly at home.  Show us over those apricots, meaning peaches.  The not far distant day.  Homerule sun rising up in the northwest.

His smile faded as he walked, a heavy cloud hiding the sun slowly, shadowing Trinity’s surly front.  Trams passed one another, ingoing, outgoing, clanging.  Useless words.  Things go on same, day after day:  squads of police marching out, back:  trams in, out.  Those two loonies mooching about.  Dignam carted off.  Mina Purefoy swollen belly on a bed groaning to have a child tugged out of her.  One born every second somewhere.  Other dying every second.  Since I fed the birds five minutes.  Three hundred kicked the bucket.  Other three hundred born, washing the blood off, all are washed in the blood of the lamb, bawling maaaaaa.

Copyrights
Project Gutenberg
Ulysses from Project Gutenberg. Public domain.