Ulyssesanboco, 30 aug. 2016 - 500 sidor Ulysses chronicles the peripatetic appointments and encounters of Leopold Bloom in Dublin in the course of an ordinary day, 16 June 1904. Ulysses is the Latinised name of Odysseus, the hero of Homer's epic poem Odyssey, and the novel establishes a series of parallels between the poem and the novel, with structural correspondences between the characters and experiences of Leopold Bloom and Odysseus, Molly Bloom and Penelope, and Stephen Dedalus and Telemachus, in addition to events and themes of the early twentieth century context of modernism, Dublin, and Ireland's relationship to Britain. The novel imitates registers of centuries of English literature and is highly allusive. Ulysses' stream-of-consciousness technique, careful structuring, and experimental prose — full of puns, parodies, and allusions — as well as its rich characterisation and broad humour, made the book a highly regarded novel in the modernist pantheon. Joyce fans worldwide now celebrate 16 June as Bloomsday. |
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... arms on the top of the staircase and looked coldly at the shaking gurgling face that blessed him, equine in its length, and at the light untonsured hair, grained and hued like pale oak. Buck Mulligan peeped an instant under the mirror ...
... arms on the top of the staircase and looked coldly at the shaking gurgling face that blessed him, equine in its length, and at the light untonsured hair, grained and hued like pale oak. Buck Mulligan peeped an instant under the mirror ...
Sida
... arm in Stephen's and walked with him round the tower, his razor and mirror clacking in the pocket where he had ... arm. His arm. —And to think of your having to beg from these.
... arm in Stephen's and walked with him round the tower, his razor and mirror clacking in the pocket where he had ... arm. His arm. —And to think of your having to beg from these.
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... arms and in her heart. But for her the race of the world would have trampled him underfoot, a squashed boneless snail. She had loved his weak watery blood drained from her own. Was that then real? The only true thing in life? His ...
... arms and in her heart. But for her the race of the world would have trampled him underfoot, a squashed boneless snail. She had loved his weak watery blood drained from her own. Was that then real? The only true thing in life? His ...
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... Arms hotel. I asked him to lay my letter before the meeting. You see if you can get it into your two papers. What are they? —The Evening Telegraph... —That will do, Mr Deasy said. There is no time to lose. Now I have to answer that ...
... Arms hotel. I asked him to lay my letter before the meeting. You see if you can get it into your two papers. What are they? —The Evening Telegraph... —That will do, Mr Deasy said. There is no time to lose. Now I have to answer that ...
Sida
... arms waving to the air. —She never let them in, he cried again through his laughter as he stamped on gaitered feet over the gravel of the path. That's why. On his wise shoulders through the checkerwork of leaves the sun flung spangles ...
... arms waving to the air. —She never let them in, he cried again through his laughter as he stamped on gaitered feet over the gravel of the path. That's why. On his wise shoulders through the checkerwork of leaves the sun flung spangles ...
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arms asked better bloody Bloom Boylan Buck Mulligan Cissy Caffrey Corny Kelleher cried dark dead Deasy Dedalus Dignam Dollard Dolphin's Barn door Dublin eyes face Father Conmee fellow fingers FLORRY gentleman Gerty girl Haines hair hand head hear heard heart Howth Ireland Irish J. J. O'Molloy Jack Power Kevin Egan kiss lady laughing Lenehan Leopold Leopold Bloom lips look Lord Lynch Martin Cunningham Menton Metempsychosis Molly morning mother mouth Mullingar Myles Crawford Nelson's pillar never night Paddy Dignam passed pocket poor Poulaphouca Red Murray round says Alf says Joe says the citizen shillings Simon Dedalus smiled Stephen Stephen Dedalus street suppose sweet tell There's thing told turned Virag voice Wait walked watch What's wife woman wonder words wouldnt young Zinfandel