UlyssesOriginally reviled as obscure and obscene, Joyce's masterpiece now stands as one of the great literary achievements of the twentieth century. Loosely based on Homer's Odyssey, the novel traces the paths of Leopold Bloom and other Dubliners through an ordinary summer day and night in 1904 — a typical day, transformed by Joyce's narrative powers into an epic celebration of life. First editions of Ulysses rank among the modern rare book trade's most valuable finds. This reprint of the original edition is not only the least expensive version available but also the truest to the author's vision. Many experts have reinterpreted the novel's surviving drafts to produce revised texts, but this edition remains the version that Joyce himself reviewed and corrected prior to the initial publication. A new Introduction by Joyce scholar Enda Duffy offers an enlightening and enthusiastic welcome to a landmark of modern literature. |
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Sida 8
You said, Stephen answered, 0, it': only Dedalus whose mother is beastly dead. A flush which made him seem younger and more engaging rose to Buck Mulligan's cheek. - Did I say that? he asked. Well? What harm is that?
You said, Stephen answered, 0, it': only Dedalus whose mother is beastly dead. A flush which made him seem younger and more engaging rose to Buck Mulligan's cheek. - Did I say that? he asked. Well? What harm is that?
Sida 19
Write down all I said And tell Tom, Dick and Harry I rate from the dead. W hat': bred in the bone cannot fail me to fly And Oli'uet's breery... Goodbye, now, goodbye. He capered before them down towards the fortyfoot hole, ...
Write down all I said And tell Tom, Dick and Harry I rate from the dead. W hat': bred in the bone cannot fail me to fly And Oli'uet's breery... Goodbye, now, goodbye. He capered before them down towards the fortyfoot hole, ...
Sida 26
Weep no more, woful shepherd, weep no more For Lycidas, your sorrow, is not dead, Sunk though he be beneath the watery floor... It must be a movement then, an actuality of the possible as possible. Aristotle's phrase formed itself ...
Weep no more, woful shepherd, weep no more For Lycidas, your sorrow, is not dead, Sunk though he be beneath the watery floor... It must be a movement then, an actuality of the possible as possible. Aristotle's phrase formed itself ...
Sida 30
An old pilgrim's hoard, dead treasure, hollow shells. A sovereign fell, bright and new, on the soft pile of the tablecloth. —— Three, Mr Deasy said, turning his little savingsbox about in his hand. These are handy things to have. See.
An old pilgrim's hoard, dead treasure, hollow shells. A sovereign fell, bright and new, on the soft pile of the tablecloth. —— Three, Mr Deasy said, turning his little savingsbox about in his hand. These are handy things to have. See.
Sida 33
Dying, he said, if not dead by now. The harl0t's cry from street to street Shall weave old England': winding sheet. His eyes open wide in vision stared sternly across the sunbeam in which -- A merchant, Stephen said, is one who buys ...
Dying, he said, if not dead by now. The harl0t's cry from street to street Shall weave old England': winding sheet. His eyes open wide in vision stared sternly across the sunbeam in which -- A merchant, Stephen said, is one who buys ...
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answered arms asked beauty better bloody Bloom Buck citizen coming corner course cried dark dead Dedalus door Dublin eyes face father feel fellow first four gave girl give green hair half hand head hear heard heart holding Irish keep kind knew lady land laughing Lenehan light live look Lord Martin Master mean mind Miss morning mother mouth Mulligan nature never night once passed past play pocket poor Power remember round says shillings side sitting smiled standing Stephen stopped street suppose sure sweet talking tell thing thought told took turned voice Wait walked watch wife window woman women wonder write young