Ulysses

Framsida
CreateSpace Independent Publishing Platform, 2018 - 486 sidor
"I was a Flower of the mountain yes when I put the rose in my hair like the Andalusian girls used or shall I wear a red yes and how he kissed me under the Moorish wall and I thought well as well him as another and then I asked him with my eyes to ask again yes and then he asked me would I yes to say yes my mountain flower and first I put my arms around him yes and drew him down to me so he could feel my breasts all perfume yes and his heart was going like mad and yes I said yes I will Yes." "A man of genius makes no mistakes. His errors are volitional and are the portals of discovery." "Every life is in many days, day after day. We walk through ourselves, meeting robbers, ghosts, giants, old men, young men, wives, widows, brothers-in-love, but always meeting ourselves." "The supreme question about a work of art is out of how deep a life does it spring." "To learn one must be humble. But life is the great teacher." "Let my country die for me.""Hold to the now, the here, through which all future plunges to the past." Stately, plump Buck Mulligan came from the stairhead, bearing a bowl of lather on which a mirror and a razor lay crossed. A yellow dressinggown, ungirdled, was sustained gently behind him on the mild morning air. He held the bowl aloft and intoned:-Introibo ad altare Dei.Halted, he peered down the dark winding stairs and called out coarsely:-Come up, Kinch! Come up, you fearful jesuit!Solemnly he came forward and mounted the round gunrest. He faced about and blessed gravely thrice the tower, the surrounding land and the awaking mountains. Then, catching sight of Stephen Dedalus, he bent towards him and made rapid crosses in the air, gurgling in his throat and shaking his head. Stephen Dedalus, displeased and sleepy, leaned his 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 and then covered the bowl smartly.-Back to barracks! he said sternly.He added in a preacher's tone:-For this, O dearly beloved, is the genuine Christine: body and soul and blood and ouns. Slow music, please. Shut your eyes, gents. One moment. A little trouble about those white corpuscles. Silence, all.He peered sideways up and gave a long slow whistle of call, then paused awhile in rapt attention, his even white teeth glistening here and there with gold points. Chrysostomos. Two strong shrill whistles answered through the calm.-Thanks, old chap, he cried briskly. That will do nicely. Switch off the current, will you?He skipped off the gunrest and looked gravely at his watcher, gathering about his legs the loose folds of his gown. The plump shadowed face and sullen oval jowl recalled a prelate, patron of arts in the middle ages. A pleasant smile broke quietly over his lips.-The mockery of it! he said gaily. Your absurd name, an ancient Greek!

Andra upplagor - Visa alla

Bibliografisk information