“...the obscure soul of the world, a darkness shining in brightness which brightness could not comprehend.”

“It soared, a bird, it held its flight, a swift pure cry, soar silver orb it leaped serene, speeding, sustained...”

“Grace before Glutton. For what we are, gifs a gross if we are, about to believe.”

“His head was large, globular and oily; it sweated in all weathers; and his large round hat, set upon it sideways, looked like a bulb which had grown out of another.”

“I wanted real adventures to happen to myself. But real adventures, I reflected, do not happen to people who remain at home: they must be sought abroad.”

“I read in that Voyages in China that the Chinese say a white man smells like a corpse.”

“Oh rocks!' says Molly Bloom, drumming her fingers in impatience. 'Tell us in plain words.”

“Shakespeare is the happy huntingground of all minds that have lost their balance.”

“it wounded him to think that he would never be but a shy guest at the feast of the world's culture”

“Knock knock. War's where! Which war? The Twwinns. Knock knock. Woos without! Without what? An apple. Knock knock.”

“By thinking of things you could understand them.”

“Where oranges have been laid to rust upon the green...”

“Mistakes are the portals of discovery.”

“Begin to forget it. It will remember itself from every sides, with all gestures in each our word. Today’s truth, tomorrow’s trend.”

“For all their faults. I am passing out. O bitter ending! I’ll slip away before they’re up. They’ll never see. Nor know. Nor miss me.”

“He did not want to play. He wanted to meet in the real world the unsubstantial image which his soul so constantly beheld.”

“A region where grey twilight ever descends, never falls on wide sagegreen pasturefields, shedding her dusk, scattering a perennial dew of stars.”

“He had felt proud and happy then, happy that she was his, proud of her grace and wifely carriage.”

“Her image accompanied me even in places the most hostile to romance. On”

“—What is a ghost? Stephen said with tingling energy. One who has faded into impalpability through death, through absence, through change of manners.”

“What is home without Plumtree's Potted Meat? Incomplete.”

“That is god... A shout in the street,' Stephen answered...”

“Every life is 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.”

“This is the way to the museyroom. Mind your boots goan out.”

“To live, to err, to fall, to triumph, to recreate life out of life.”

“He found trivial all that was meant to charm him and did not answer the glances which invited him to be bold.”

“I smiled at him. America, I said quietly, just like that. What is it? The sweepings of every country including our own. Isn't that true? That's a fact.”

“The pity is that the public will demand and find a moral in my book, or worse they may take it in some serious way, and on the honour of a gentleman, there is not one single serious word in it.”

“The pity is that the public will demand and find a moral in my book, or worse they may take it in some serious way, and on the honour of a gentleman, there is not one single serious word in it.”

“It wounded him to think that he would never be but a shy guest at the feast of the world's culture.”

“...her who whose beauty is not like earthly beauty, dangerous to look upon, but like the morning star which is its emblem, bright and musical.”

“Do you know what Ireland is?' asked Stephen with cold violence. 'Ireland is the old sow that eats her farrow.”

“Why is it that words like these seem to me so dull and cold? Is it because there is no word tender enough to be your name?”

“What proposal did Bloom, diambulist, father of Milly, somnambulist, make to Stephen, noctambulist?”

“What proposal did Bloom, diambulist, father of Milly, somnambulist, make to Stephen, noctambulist?”

“He used to call her Poppens out of fun.”

“Well, you know or don't you kennet or haven't I told you every

“But he was not sick there. He thought that he was sick in his heart if you could be sick in that place.”

“Any object, intensely regarded, may be a gate of access to the incorruptible eon of the gods.”

“I fear more than that the chemical action which would be set up in my soul by a false homage to a symbol behind which are massed twenty centuries of authority and veneration.”

“Look at the woebegone walk of him. Eaten a bad egg. Poached eyes on ghost.”

“This in no life for man or woman, insults and hatred and history.”

“When I find a lady who is content with her own picture I will send a bouquet to the Pope”

“Tell me. Tell me with your eyes.”

“The peace of the gardens and the kindly lights in the windows poured a tender influence into his restless heart.”

“He passes, struck by the stare of truculent Wellington but in the convex mirror grin unstruck the bonham eyes and fatchuck cheekchops of Jollypoldy the rixdix doldy.”

“He read the verses backwards but then they were not poetry.”

“between them he felt an unknown and timid pressure, darker than the swoon of sin, softer than sound or odour.”

“How mingled and imperfect are all our sublunary joys!”

“Phall if you but will, rise you must.”