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Joyce, James, 1882-1941

"Ulysses"

He drew back and saw an instant of
shower spray dots over the grey flags. Apart. Curious. Like through a
colander. I thought it would. My boots were creaking I remember now.
--The weather is changing, he said quietly.
--A pity it did not keep up fine, Martin Cunningham said.
--Wanted for the country, Mr Power said. There's the sun again coming out.
Mr Dedalus, peering through his glasses towards the veiled sun,
hurled a mute curse at the sky.
--It's as uncertain as a child's bottom, he said.
--We're off again.
The carriage turned again its stiff wheels and their trunks swayed
gently. Martin Cunningham twirled more quickly the peak of his beard.
--Tom Kernan was immense last night, he said. And Paddy Leonard taking
him off to his face.
--O, draw him out, Martin, Mr Power said eagerly. Wait till you hear him,
Simon, on Ben Dollard's singing of THE CROPPY BOY.
--Immense, Martin Cunningham said pompously. HIS SINGING OF THAT SIMPLE
BALLAD, MARTIN, IS THE MOST TRENCHANT RENDERING I EVER HEARD IN THE WHOLE
COURSE OF MY EXPERIENCE.
--Trenchant, Mr Power said laughing.


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