A star, a daystar, a firedrake, rose at his birth. It shone
by day in the heavens alone, brighter than Venus in the night, and by
night it shone over delta in Cassiopeia, the recumbent constellation
which is the signature of his initial among the stars. His eyes watched
it, lowlying on the horizon, eastward of the bear, as he walked by the
slumberous summer fields at midnight returning from Shottery and from her
arms.
Both satisfied. I too.
Don't tell them he was nine years old when it was quenched.
And from her arms.
Wait to be wooed and won. Ay, meacock. Who will woo you?
Read the skies. AUTONTIMORUMENOS. BOUS STEPHANOUMENOS. Where's your
configuration? Stephen, Stephen, cut the bread even. S. D: SUA DONNA.
GIA: DI LUI. GELINDO RISOLVE DI NON AMARE S. D.
--What is that, Mr Dedalus? the quaker librarian asked. Was it a
celestial phenomenon?
--A star by night, Stephen said. A pillar of the cloud by day.
What more's to speak?
Stephen looked on his hat, his stick, his boots.
STEPHANOS, my crown. My sword. His boots are spoiling the shape of
my feet. Buy a pair. Holes in my socks.
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