UlyssesThe Floating Press, 1 jan. 2009 - 1023 sidor James Joyce's novel Ulysses is said to be one of the most important works in Modernist literature. It details Leopold Bloom's passage through Dublin on an ordinary day: June 16, 1904. Causing controversy, obscenity trials and heated debates, Ulysses is a pioneering work that brims with puns, parodies, allusions, stream-of-consciousness writing and clever structuring. Modern Library ranked it as number one on its list of the twentieth century's 100 greatest English-language novels and Martin Amis called it one of the greatest novels ever written. |
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Sida 8
... asked you, Buck Mulligan said. I'm hyperborean as much as you. But to think of your mother begging you with her last breath to kneel down and pray for her. And you refused. There is something sinister in you He broke off and lathered ...
... asked you, Buck Mulligan said. I'm hyperborean as much as you. But to think of your mother begging you with her last breath to kneel down and pray for her. And you refused. There is something sinister in you He broke off and lathered ...
Sida 11
... There's nothing wrong with him except at night. —Then what is it? Buck Mulligan asked impatiently. Cough it up. I'm quite frank with you. What have you against me now? They halted, looking towards the blunt cape of Bray Head ll.
... There's nothing wrong with him except at night. —Then what is it? Buck Mulligan asked impatiently. Cough it up. I'm quite frank with you. What have you against me now? They halted, looking towards the blunt cape of Bray Head ll.
Sida 12
... asked. —Yes, what is it? Buck Mulligan answered. I don't remember anything. He looked in Stephen's face as he spoke. A light wind passed his brow, fanning softly his fair uncombed hair and stirring silver points of anxiety in his eyes ...
... asked. —Yes, what is it? Buck Mulligan answered. I don't remember anything. He looked in Stephen's face as he spoke. A light wind passed his brow, fanning softly his fair uncombed hair and stirring silver points of anxiety in his eyes ...
Sida 13
James Joyce. —Did I say that? he asked. Well? What harm is that? He shook his constraint from him nervously. —And what is death, he asked, your mother's or yours or my own? You saw only your mother die. I see them pop off every day in ...
James Joyce. —Did I say that? he asked. Well? What harm is that? He shook his constraint from him nervously. —And what is death, he asked, your mother's or yours or my own? You saw only your mother die. I see them pop off every day in ...
Sida 18
... asked. —Dedalus has it, Buck Mulligan said. Janey Mack, I'm choked! He howled, without looking up from the fire: —Kinch! —It's in the lock, Stephen said, coming forward. The key scraped round harshly twice and, when the heavy door had ...
... asked. —Dedalus has it, Buck Mulligan said. Janey Mack, I'm choked! He howled, without looking up from the fire: —Kinch! —It's in the lock, Stephen said, coming forward. The key scraped round harshly twice and, when the heavy door had ...
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