Chapter 10 Chapter 8 2

He went out, took a breath of fresh air, and turned back toward Grafton Street.Eat or be eaten.kill! kill! Suppose a public kitchen is set up in a few years, what will happen? Everyone brings porridge bowls and lunch boxes, waits for someone to serve them, and then swallows their share on the street.Here's John Howard Parnell, for example, and the Headmaster of Trinity, every mother's son. [201] Not to mention your Heads and Head of Trinity College.Women and children, coachmen, priests, priests, marshals, archbishops.From Aylesbury Road, Clyde Road, The Craftsman's House, North Dublin Union Almshouse, the Lord Mayor in his stately, antique coach, and the old Queen in a soft sedan chair.My plate is empty.Please come ahead of me.Take our city hall cups, like Sir Philip Crampton's drinking fountain. [202] Wipe away germs with your handkerchief.The next person rubbed another batch with his.Father O'Flynn would point out the ignorance of all of them. [203] Still, there will be fights.Everyone is vying for the top spot.The children scrambled over the bits of crumbs that sat on the bottom of the pot.A soup pot as big as Phoenix Park[204] is required.Grilled pork tenderloin and ham are eaten with a harpoon.You will hate everyone around you.She called it a guest meal at the City Emblem Hotel [205].Soups, elbows and sweets.You'll never know whose thoughts you're chewing.So, who's going to wash all those plates and forks? Maybe it's all about pills by then.Teeth are getting worse.

After all, there is some truth to vegetarianism, and things cultivated on the earth are always fragrant.Garlic, of course, stinks, like those Italian accordionists who smell of fresh onions, mushrooms and truffles.It also causes pain to animals.Pluck the feathers of the poultry and scoop out the offal.The unfortunate animals in the livestock market waited for the butcher to split their skulls in half with the axe.Moo! Poor, trembling calf.Baa! Hitting Niu Huizi who was staggering. [206] Fried cabbage and beef roll.The butcher's bucket is full of quivering lungs.Unhook that brisket for us.Patta! Freshly severed heads and bloody bones[207].The skinned sheep, with eyes like glass beads, hooked on the waist and legs, dripped thick snot on the sawdust from the nose stuffed with bloody paper.Whip the tops and make them spin endlessly.Dolls, don't smash them into pieces.

The medicine they prescribed for consumptive patients was blood.Blood is needed all the time.Before I knew it, my condition became severe.Lick off the blood, thick as sugar, while it's still steaming.hungry ghosts. Ah, I'm hungry. He went into David Byrne's shop.It's a decent bar.Bosses don't like rapping.Occasionally, you are invited to have a free drink, but the frequency is as rare as a leap year every four years.Once he cashed a check for me. What should I eat? He took out his pocket watch.Now let me think about it.Beer and lemonade? "Hi, Bloom," said Nosy Flynn from his usual corner.

"Oh, Flynn." "Recently how kind?" "Very good... let me think about it. A glass of claret[209] and... let me think about it." There were sardines on the shelf.Just by looking at it, you can almost taste it.Sandwiches? Mustard on ham and anything made from it, sandwiched between bread. [210] Canned meat.What if you don’t have Prunus brand canned meat at home? That would be a fly in the ointment. [211] What a stupid ad! They put it under the obituary.In this way, the dead all climbed the plum tree[212].Dignam's canned meat.Cannibals will dine with lemon and rice.Caucasian missionaries tasted too salty, much like bacon.The Chief must have eaten the best part.The meat must have aged due to frequent use.His wives all stood in a row, waiting to see the effect.Once upon a time there was an old orthodox, noble, dark king.Did he eat something of the venerable Mr. McTriggle or something.It is a happy nest.God knows how it fits.Cut up fetal membranes, moldy lungs, and trachea, and blend them together to pass them off.No matter how hard you try, you can't find a trace of meat.Muslim food.You can't eat meat and milk together.According to the current parlance, it is food hygiene.The fast of Yom Kippur is a spring cleaning of the guts.Peace and war depend on someone's digestion.various religions.Christmas turkey and goose.Kill the innocent. [213] Eat, drink, have fun. [214] Then the temporary asylum of the workhouse was full.Bandages were wrapped around their heads.Cheese digests everything but itself.Cheese with many mites. [215]

"Do you have cheese sandwiches?" "Yes, sir." If there are any, I would like to get some olives.I prefer the ones from Italy.A glass of fine Burgundy will make me forget about that.That's lubricating.A delicious dish of lettuce, cold like cucumber.Tom Kernan is good at cooking.Do it with gusto.Pure olive oil.Millie served me a sprig of tender parsley next to the schnitzel.Ask for a Spanish onion.God made the food, the devil made the cook. [216] Spicy Pound Crab. [217] "How is your wife?" "That's fine, thanks...so, a cheese sandwich. Do you have any Gorgonzola [218] cheese?"

"Yes, sir." Big-Nosed Flynn sipped his stout and water. "Have you sung recently?" Look at his mouth.Almost able to whistle into his own ears.Add a pair of fan ears.music.He knew as much about it as my coachman.Still, it's better to tell him.No harm, free advertising. "She's contracted to go on a massive tour at the end of this month. You've probably heard." "Never heard of it. Oh, it's very fashionable. Who's the agent?" The waiter brought the plates. "How much?" "Sevenpence, sir . . . thank you, sir."

Mr. Bloom cut his sandwiches into thin strips.Mr McTrigger.Better to cut than that dreamy, creamy stuff.His five hundred wives.They were contented to their heart's content. "Would you like mustard, sir?" "thanks." He uncovered the sandwich strips and smeared them with yellow spots.got satisfied.I remembered: it got bigger and bigger and bigger. "A broker?" he said, "Well, it's like a company, understand. Everyone shares the funds, and everyone shares the profits." "Ah, now I remember," said Nosy Flynn, putting a hand in his pocket to scratch the itch in the hollow of his thigh. "Who told me that? Blazes Boylan Did you get involved too?"

The mustard warmed Mr Bloom's heart.He raised his eyes and met the staring wall clock.two o'clock.The bar clock was five minutes fast.Time is passing.The pointer is moving.two o'clock.Not yet. At this moment, his lower abdomen turned up, and then fell down again.More and more ardently longing, longing. wine. He smelled and sipped the mellow juice, forcing his throat to gulp it down.Then, carefully put down the wine glass. "Yes," he said, "actually he was the initiator." Nothing to fear: this guy has no brains. Big-nosed Flynn sniffed and scratched.The fleas are also feasting.

"Jack Mooney [219] told me he had his luck. Myler Keogh beat the soldiers at the Port Bello camp [220] again in that boxing match, so he won his bet. Really, he And told me he'd taken the boy to Carlow County[221]..." I hope his snot doesn't slip into his glass.No, he sucked it back in again. "Listen, it's about a month before the game, let him suck the duck eggs, God, take orders. The intention is to get him off the drink, understand? Oh, God, Blazes is a trick guy." David Byrne came from behind the counter.His shirtsleeves were tucked, his lips were wiped with a napkin, and his face was as red as a herring.Smiling made his nose and eyes look so full. [222] Looks like too much oil on the parsnip root. [223]

"Here he is, full of energy," said Nosy Flynn. "Can you tell us which horse is going to win the Gold Cup?" "I have nothing to do with that, Mr. Flynn," replied David Byrne, "I never bet on horses." "You're right," said Nosy Flynn. Mr. Bloom ate his strips of sandwiches.It is fresh and clean bread.The mustard that chokes the nose and the green cheese that smells like feet are both disgusting and enjoyable to eat.He took a few sips of the red wine and found it refreshing.It is not mixed with hematoxylin [224] dye.It tastes more mellow when you drink it, and it can suppress the cold.

Sophisticated and quiet bar.The wood used for the counter is also very delicate.Planed very finely.I like how curvaceous it is. "I don't want to be involved in horse racing at all," David Byrne said. "It's these horses that have ruined a lot of people." The wine merchants made a fortune.They are licensed to serve beer, wine and spirits on premises.Heads I win, tails you lose. "You've got a point," Nosy Flynn said. "Unless you know the inside story, there's no such thing as a non-trickster game. Lenehan got some inside information. Today he's betting on the Scepter. Sir Howard de Walden's steed, Xinfang Wine' is popular, it won at Epsom[225]. The rider is Morny Cannon. I would have won seven to one if I had put my bet on 'St. Amman' a fortnight ago of." "Really?" said David Byrne. He went to the window, picked up the petty balance sheet, and looked through it. "That's true," said Big-Nosed Flynn, sniffing his nose. "That's a rare and famous horse. His sire is 'Saint Frusque'. This Rothschild's filly The horse won in a thunderstorm with cotton in its ears. The jockey was wearing a blue jacket and a canary cap. To hell with Big Ben Dollard and his 'John Ogunter' ! Well, he was the one who stopped me and advised me not to bet on 'St. Amman'." He drank the wine in the glass helplessly, and ran his finger down the groove of the glass. "Alas," he said with a sigh. Mr Bloom stood eating, looking down at him and sighing.Stupid with a big nose.Shall I tell him about Lenehan's horse? He already knows.It's better to let him forget.Running will lose more money.Fool and his money. [226] The snot dripped down again.His nose must have been cold when he kissed a woman.Maybe they are still happy.Women love needle beards.The dog's nose is cold.Old Mrs. Riordan[227] with her hungry Skye terrier[228] at the City Emblem Hotel.Molly put it on her lap and stroked it.Ah, what a big dog, woof woof, woof, woof, woof! The wine softened the rolled crumbs, mustard, and nauseating bursts of cheese in my mouth.This is good wine.I am not thirsty, so the taste is more mellow.Of course, on the one hand it is due to just taking a shower.A sip or two will do the trick.Then, around six o'clock I can... six o'clock.six o'clock.Time flies so fast.she. The slave fire of wine warms his veins.I need this drink so badly.I've been feeling out of sorts lately.His no-hungry eyes surveyed the rows of cans on the shelves: sardines, brightly colored lobster claws.People only pick out the weird things to eat.The meat is picked out of shells and conch with a needle.Also caught from a tree.The French eat snails on the ground.Or hang bait on the hook and fish from the sea.Fish are so stupid, they haven't learned how to be good in a thousand years.If you don't know how dangerous it is to put something in your mouth.Poisonous berries.Dog rose fruit.Round and round, you would think it was quite safe.Fancy bright colors will make you vigilant.Everyone knows about it.Let the dog eat and see first.Be attracted by that smell or look.Tempting fruit.Ice cream cone.cream.instinct.Take the orange grove as an example, which also needs artificial irrigation.Black Troy Street[229].Yes, but what about oysters? They look like a mouthful of phlegm, and the shells are filthy.It takes a lot of effort to pry it open.Who found it? They thrive on discarded leftovers and sewer scum.Sipping champagne with oysters from Red Shore.It can stimulate libido.aphrodisiac.He was still at the Red Shore restaurant this morning. [230] At the dinner table he looked like an old oyster, and in bed he might have grown younger.No, there's no "r" in June, so no oysters. [231] But some people just like to eat moldy food.Bad game.Hare stewed in an earthenware pot.The pros and cons of catching a hare.The Chinese pay attention to eating duck eggs that have been stored for 50 years. The color is first blue and then green.There are thirty dishes on a table.Every dish is delicious, and it is mixed together after eating.This is good material for a novel about poisoning and murder.Grand Duke Leopold[232]? No, eh.Or one of the Habsburgs called Otto?[233] Who eats the scalp of the back of his own neck? That's the cheapest lunch in town.The nobles, of course, and then everyone else followed suit.Millie also said that oil and flour are good.I love raw dough myself.It is said that half of the oysters they caught were thrown back into the sea in order to avoid falling prices.If it is cheap, there will be no buyers.caviar.That's delicious.White Rhine wine in a green glass.Luxurious feast.Mrs. So-and-so.Pearls hung on her powdered breasts.Noble lady.Celebrities of high society. [234] This group always orders special dishes in order to show their status.Hermits eat large plates of bean food, so as to restrain the impulse of carnal desire.If you want to know me, come and have dinner with me.Sturgeon used by the royal family. [235] Coffey the Butcher gets the right to hunt deer in the forest from the Sheriff Emeritus.He honored the sheriff with half the cow.I have glimpsed game in the kitchen of the judge of the High Court[236].The Maestro in the white hat[237] is like a rabbi.Roasted duck [238].Duchess of Pamou style corrugated cabbage [239].It's best to write it on the menu so you know what you're eating.A strong medicinal taste will ruin the broth.I have personal experience.Put it in Edward's brand soup mix for a dressing.For them, feed the geese like fools[240].Throw the lobster alive into boiling water and cook.Please have some Thunderbird[241].It's not bad to be a waiter in a fancy restaurant.Picking up tips, wearing gowns, full of half-naked ladies.Miss Dolby Dart[242], may I get you some more fillet with lemon juice? Yes, some more, and she did eat it.I figured she must be a Huguenot.I remember one, Miss Dolby Dart, who lived at Killine[243].I remember the French du de la [244].But maybe it was the same fish that old Mickey Hanlon of Moore Street used to stick his fingers in its gills and gut out for money.He can't even sign a check.He grinned, as if he was painting a landscape painting.Mo Hey Michael, Chi Hey Han. [245] As stupid as a big basket of suede shoes[246] and claim fifty thousand pounds. Two flies were buzzing on the windowpane, huddling tightly together. The hot wine swirled in the mouth before swallowing, and the aftertaste was still lingering.Crush the Burgundy grapes in a juicer.Basking in the hot sun.It seems to touch it quietly, bringing back piles of past events.Touching his moistened senses brought back memories.They had hidden in the wild fern bushes of Howth.The bay sleeps beneath our feet.Sky.There was silence.Sky.At Lion's Head the waters in the bay were purple, and around Drumlek they were green.The side near Sutton is yellow-green again.The wilderness of the seabed, the hazel stripes floating on the seaweed.A submerged city.Her hair was loose and she was pillowing my top.Rubbed by earwigs in the heather.I put my hand on the back of her neck.Play with me all you want.Oh, great! She stretched out her cold and soft hands except for the ointment to touch and caress me, and stared at me with a pair of eyes.I leaned over her body distractedly, and kissed her with my plump lips parted.Really tasty.She delivered the warm fragrant seed cake[248] that she chewed gently to my mouth.First chew it with the roots of her teeth until it is soaked in saliva, sweet and sour, and sticky.joy.I swallowed it: joy.A life full of youth.She pursed the lips that had been handed over.Soft, warm, sticky, gluey lips.Her eyes are like flowers, take me, willing eyes.The pebble fell down.She lay there motionless.A goat and no one.On the high hills of Howth a she-goat ambled among the rhododendrons and the gooseberries were falling.Under the barrier of ferns, she was wrapped in warmth and smiled.Frantically I pressed on top of her and kissed her.Eyes, lips, her stretched neck.The woman's breasts were bulging and throbbing under the nun's thin baize[249] jacket.Fat tits protrude.I licked her with my hot tongue.she kissed me.I was kissed.She surrenders to me and caresses my hair.Kiss, she kissed me. I.And now I do. The tightly packed flies buzzed. His downcast eyes followed the silent grain of the oak planks.beauty.It draws curves.Curves are beautiful.Graceful goddesses.Vinersin, Juno.Curves admired around the world.Just go to libraries and museums to see nude goddesses standing in rotundas.Aids in digestion.No matter which part the man looks at, they don't mind at all.See everything at a glance.Never say nothing.I mean, never say anything to a guy like Flynn.And if she spoke, as Galatea did to Pygmalion, what would she say first? Mortals!Immediately tell you to submit obediently.Drink nectar with the gods in the bar of the gods, and everything in the golden plate is the food of the gods.Not our usual sixpence lunches: mutton stew, carrots, turnips and a bottle of Althorp[251].Divine wine, it can be imagined that it is the same as drinking electric light.God food.The graceful figure of a woman carved in Juno's image.Immortal beauty.However, we stuff food into one hole and excrete from the back.Food, chyle, blood, feces, soil, food [252].Stuffing food like coal into a locomotive.The goddesses did not[253].Never seen it.I'm going to take a look today.Admins don't care.Deliberately dropped something, then bent down to pick it up, to see if she had it. Silent messages leaked out bit by bit from his bladder, do you want to understand? No, no, let’s understand.Being a man, he made up his mind to drink the contents of the glass, then got up and walked out to the backyard.Thinking as they walked: they felt like men[254], but they had given themselves to men and slept with men they were in love with.A lad had enjoyed her. When the clatter of his boots died away, David Byrne looked at the ledger and said: "What line of business is he? Isn't he in the insurance business?" "He's been out of that business for a long time," said Nosy Flynn. "He's doing an ad for the Freeman." "I know him quite well," said David Byrne. "Has something happened to him?" "Unfortunate?" said Big-Nosed Flynn. "I haven't heard of it. How do you know?" "I noticed he was in mourning." "Is that so?" said Big-Nosed Flynn. "That's true. I asked him how the family was all right? You're quite right, he's in mourning." "If I ever saw a gentleman suffer in this way," said David Byrne, in a kindly tone, "I would never touch the subject. It would only bring up their sorrows again." "He's not wearing mourning for his wife anyway," said Nosy Flynn. "I caught him the day before yesterday coming out of that Irish dairy that John Wythe Nolan's wife owns in Henley Street, with a Holding a jar of cream, take it back to my beloved wife. Really, she is very good at eating. The breasts are plump and charming." "Is he doing something for the Freeman?" said David Byrne. Nosy Flynn pursed his lips. "He didn't pay for the cream with advertising, that's right." "What's the matter?" said David Byrne, putting down his books, and coming up. Big-nosed Flynn made a few conjurer-like gestures with his fingers and blinked. "He's in the Freemasonry." "Really?" said David Byrne. "True," said Big-Nosed Flynn, "an ancient, free, and recognized guild[255]. God gave light, life, and love. They helped him. It was a Bit...here, let’s keep her name a secret.” "Is it true?" "Well, it's a great organization," said Big-Nosed Flynn, "and they help you out when you're in trouble. I know one guy who's trying to join, but their door is closed. They It’s really right to never let women in.” David Byrne smiled and yawned and nodded. "Ah-ch!" "There was a woman hiding in a big clock once," said Nosy Flynn, "to see what they were up to. God damn it, they found out and dragged her out , let her be sworn on the spot, to be a master. I heard she was a member of St. Leger's family at Donnettle."256 David Byrne sat down again after yawning, and said tearfully: "Is that true? He's a decent, quiet gentleman. He's been around here a lot, but I've never seen him—well, got drunk." "Even Almighty God can't get him drunk," said Big-Nosed Flynn emphatically, "and when the rowdy gets too far, he'll run away. Don't you see him looking at his watch? Ah, You weren't there. If you invited him for a drink, he'd take out his pocket watch first to see what he had to drink. I bet he did." "Some guys are like that," said David Byrne. "I think he's a solid guy." "He's not a bad fellow," said Big-Nosed Flynn, sniffling snot, "and I'm told he once reached out to help a mate. In all fairness, oh, Bloom's got all the good stuff. There's one thing though, He definitely won't do it." He used his finger like a pen not dipped in ink, and scribbled a signature beside the glass of strong wine mixed with water. "I know," said David Byrne. "Writing in black and white, he would never," said Nosy Flynn. Paddy Leonard and Bantam Lyons walk in.Tom Rochford [257] followed, frowning, one hand sullenly on the fuchsia waistcoat. "Hello, Mr. Byrne." "Good day, gentlemen." They stopped at the counter. "Who's going to run the show?" Paddy Leonard asked. "I'm sitting down anyway,"[258] Nosy Flynn replied. "So, what's a good drink?" Paddy Leonard asked. "I'll have ginger ale on the rocks," said Bantam Lyons. "How much?" cried Paddy Leonard. "When the hell did you like this? What do you want, Tom?" "How's the sewer main?" Nosy Flynn asked, sipping his wine. Tom Rochford pressed his hand to his breastbone and belched in reply. "Would you please give me a glass of water, Mr. Byrne?" he said. "Okay, sir." Paddy Leonard glanced at his drinking buddies. "Oh, what a waste!" he said. "What kind of people am I asking for drinks? Cold water and ginger ale! They are clearly two drunkards, and the guy who can lick the whiskey off the wounded leg. He seems to have mastered A horse that will win a gold cup. There's nothing wrong with it." "It's Zinfandel?" asked Nosy Flynn. Tom Rochford sprinkled some powder from the roll into the cup that was set before him. "This indigestion is nasty," he said before he downed it. "Baking soda works," said David Byrne. Tom Rochford nodded and drank. "Is it 'Zarouflage wine'?" "Don't say anything!" said Bantam Lyons with a wink. "I'm going to throw five shillings right there myself." "Hell, if you're a good man, tell us," Paddy Leonard said, "who on earth told you that?" Mr. Bloom held out three fingers as he walked out. "Goodbye!" said Big Nose Flynn. Everyone else turned their heads. "That's what the man told me," said Bantam Lyons quietly. "Bah!" Paddy Leonard said contemptuously, "Mr. Byrne, we also need two small bottles of Jameson whiskey, and..." "Ice Cube Ginger Ale," David Byrne added politely. "Well," said Paddy Leonard, "a bottle sip for the baby." Mr. Bloom licked his teeth clean with his tongue as he walked up Dawson Street.It has to be something green: spinach, for example.In this way, it can be traced by the Roentgen ray [260] perspective method. In Dukes Lane, a gluttonous dog is spitting a disgusting lump of elbow flesh onto the cobblestones and licking it eagerly again.Gluttonous.After fully digesting what he had swallowed, he spat it out gratefully.The first time it was sweet, and the second time it was delicious.Mr Bloom walked cautiously around.Ruminants.This is the second dish.They chew with their mandibles, and I wonder what Tom Rochford thinks of his invention.It was useless to explain it to Flynn's mouth.Thin people have long mouths.There should be a personal hall or something where inventors can gather and invent freely.Of course, in that case, all kinds of weirdos will come to make trouble. He hummed, drawing out the codas of the bars with solemn echoes: don giovanni you invited me Dinner [262] tonight. I feel more comfortable.Burgundy.Can refresh.Who was the first brewer? A melancholy man somewhere.Drunken out of madness.Now I'm off to the National Library to look it up (Kilkenny People). The bare, clean toilet bowls in the window of the William Miller plumbing store brought his thoughts back.can do it.Swallow a needle and watch it fall.Sometimes it pops out of the ribs again years later.Traveling around the body, passing through the ever-changing bile duct, the liver that sprays out the melancholy, the gastric juice, and the intestines that bend like tubes.And yet the poor experimenter had to stand there and show his guts all the time.That's science. A cenar teco.[263] What does "teco" mean here? Maybe "tonight." Don Giovanni, you invited me, Have dinner with you today, Ze, Rum, Ze, Rum Dam. Not right. [264] Case.As long as things go well with Nannity, I'll have two months' pay.That's two pounds ten shillings—about two pounds eight shillings.Hynes owes me three shillings.Two pounds eleven shillings.The wagons of Prescott's dyers were there.Two pounds fifteen shillings if you got Billy Prescott's ad.Together it is about five guineas.Think about it. Molly could get a silk petticoat just the right color to go with her new garters. Nowadays.Nowadays.Don't think about it. Then go to the south for a walk.How about the bathing beaches in England? Brighton [266], Margate [267].A pier bathed in moonlight.Her voice floated leisurely.Those pretty girls on the beach.A sleepy bum leaned against the wall of John Lang's Bar, sinking deep into the night, nibbling on his scabbed knuckles.Skillful craftsman, looking for some work to do.The wages are low, so you can eat whatever you want. Mr. Bloom turned the corner at Gray's Confectionery, where the unsold jam tarts were displayed, and passed the venerable Thomas Connellan's bookshop. "Why I Left the Church of Rome [268]". The women of the Bird's Nest supported him.It is said that in poor potato years they would often give soup to poor children in order to convert them to Protestantism.Baba had once been to the Sanhedrin across the street that was converting poor Jews to Christianity. [270] They used the same bait.Why did we break away from the Church of Rome. A young blind man stood tapping the curb of the sidewalk with a thin stick.There was no shadow of a tram.He wants to cross the road. "Do you want to go the other way?" asked Mr. Bloom. The young blind man did not answer.His wall-like face frowned slightly and shook his head blankly. "You're on Dawson Street now," said Mr. Bloom. "Molesworth Street is just across. Do you want to cross? There's nothing crossing now." His cane wobbled to the left.As Mr. Bloom watched, he caught a glimpse of Prescott's cart still parked in front of Drago's Barbershop.I caught a glimpse of his unpomaded head in the same place in the morning when I happened to be... the horse drooping its head.The handlebars are moistening their throats in John Long's bar. "There's a cart over there," said Mr. Bloom, "but it hasn't moved. I'll see you there. Do you want to go to Molesworth Street?" "Yes," answered the young man, "South Frederick Street." "Come on," said Mr Bloom. He lightly touched the skinny elbow of the blind young man, and then took that delicate and sensitive hand to guide him. Pick up a conversation with him.Don't be condescending.They won't believe your word.Lala casually. "It's not raining anymore." don't say anything. His coat was stained.He must be eating and sprinkling.For him, the taste of food is completely different.At first, it has to be fed mouthful with a spoon.His hands are like those of a doll.Millie's hands used to be like that too.very sensitive.He can probably figure out how big I am with my hands.Should he have a name? Carriage.Don't let his stick touch the horse's leg.Male was dozing off from exhaustion.Well, finally crossed the road safely.Walk behind the bull and in front of the horse. [271] "Thank you, sir." By the voice, you know that I am a man. "Okay now? Turn left at the first intersection." The young blind man tapped on the curbstone and walked on.He drew back his cane and poked around again. Mr Bloom followed the blind man's feet.He was wearing a poorly cut herringbone suit.Poor boy! How did he know the wagon was there? He must have felt it.Maybe use your forehead to see things.There is a sense of volume.Something darker than dark - weight or volume.If something was removed, would he feel it? A sense of a gap.He must have had a fantastic idea of ​​the city of Dublin, for he was always walking on yellow stones like that.Could he have walked straight between two points without the cane? A bloodless, pious face, as if vowing to be a priest. Penrose[272]! That's the man's name. See how much they can learn to do.Read with your fingers.Tuning the piano.We'd be surprised if they had any brains.If a crippled or hunchbacked person says things that normal people would say, we praise him for being smart.In other ways, of course, their senses are more acute than ours.embroidery.Weave baskets.Everyone should help them.When it's Molly's birthday, buy her a sewing basket.She hated sewing.Maybe not happy.People call them blind. Their sense of smell must also be sharper.The smells from all directions gathered together.Every street has a different smell.So is everyone.And spring, summer, each has a different smell.What kinds of flavors?It is said that when the eyes are closed or when you have a cold and headache, you cannot taste the taste of wine.He also said that smoking in the dark has no smell at all. The same goes for women, for example.You won't be ashamed if you can't see it.The girl walking past Stewart Hospital with her head up.Look at me, how well dressed I am.How strange it would be if he could not see her.In his mind's eye an image will be reflected.Voice, body temperature.When he ran his fingers over her, he could almost glimpse the lines, the curves.For example, he puts his hands on her hair.Assume that is black.OKLet's call it black.Then move on to her white skin.Maybe it feels different.White feeling. post office.Gotta write a reply.Today is really busy.Send her two shillings by money order—no, half a crown.Bo Li, still begging to accept.There happened to be a stationery store here.Wait a minute.Think about it and say it. 他用一根手指非常缓慢地把头发朝耳后拢了拢。又摸了一遍。像是极为柔细的稻草。然后又用手指去抚摩一下右脸颊。这里也有茸毛，不够光滑。最光滑要算肚皮了。四下里没有人。那个青年正走进弗雷德里克大街。也许是到利文斯顿舞蹈学校去给钢琴调音哩。我不妨装出一副调整背带的样子。 他走边多兰酒吧，一边把手偷偷伸进背心和裤腰之间，轻轻拉开衬衫，摸了摸腹部那松弛的皱皮。然而我知道那颜色是黄中透白。还是找个暗处去试试吧。 他缩回了手。把衣服拽拢。 可怜的人哪!他还是个孩子呢。可怕啊。确实可怕。什么都看不见，那么他都做些什么梦呢?对他来说，人生就像是一场幻梦。生就那副样子，哪里还有什么公道可言?那些妇孺参加一年一度的游览活动，在纽约被烧死、淹死[274]。一场浩劫。他们说，“业”[275]就是为了赎你在前世所犯下的宿孽，而轮回转生——遇见了他尖头胶皮管子。[276]哎呀，哎呀，哎呀。当然值得同情。然而不知怎地，他们总有点儿难以接近。 弗雷德里克·福基纳爵士[277]正步入共济会会堂。庄严如特洛伊[278]。他刚在厄尔斯福特高台街美美地吃过一顿午餐。司法界的一群老朽们都聚在一道，起劲地喝着大瓶大瓶的葡萄酒，海阔天空地谈论着法院啦，巡回裁判啦，慈善学校年鉴啦。“我判了他十年徒刑。”他也许对我喝的那种玩艺儿嗤之以鼻。他们喝的是瓶子上沾满尘埃、标着酿造年份的陈年老酒。关于记录官法庭该怎样主持公道，他自有看法。这是位用心良好的老人。警察的刑事诉讼卷宗里塞满了种种案件——他们为了提高破案率而捏造罪名。他要求他们纠正。对那些放债者毫不姑息。曾把吕便·杰狠狠地收拾了一顿。说起来他可不折不扣是个人们所说的可鄙的犹太人。这些法官权力很大。都是些戴假发、脾气暴躁的老酒鬼。就像爪子疼痛发炎的熊一样。愿天主可怜你的灵魂。[279] 哦，招贴画。麦拉斯义卖会。总督阁下。十六日，那就是今天啊。 [280]为默塞尔医院募款。 《弥赛亚》的首演[281]也是为了这个。right.亨德尔。到那儿去看看怎样?鲍尔斯桥。顺便到凯斯商店走一遭。像水蛭似的巴在他身上也没用。呆长了会讨嫌。在门口总会碰上熟人的。 布卢姆先生来到了基尔戴尔大街。首先得去图书馆。 在阳光底下戴着草帽。棕黄色皮鞋。卷边长裤。对，就是他[282]。 他的心轻轻地悸跳着，向右拐吧。museum.女神们。他向右拐了个弯。 是他吗?多半是。别看他了。酒上了我的脸。我为什么要……?太叫人发晕。对，就是他。走路的那个姿势。别看他啦。别看他啦。往前走吧。 他边大步流星地走向博物馆的大门，边抬起眼睛。漂亮的建筑。是托马斯·迪恩爵士[283]设计的。他没跟在我后边吧? 也许他没瞧见我。阳光正晃着他的眼睛。 他气喘吁吁，发出一声声短促的叹息。快点儿。冰冷的雕像群。那里挺僻静，不出一分钟我就安全了。 是啊，他没瞧见我。两点多啦。就在大门口那儿。 我的心脏! 他的眼睛直跳，直勾勾地望着奶油色石头的曲线。托马斯·迪恩爵士，希腊式建筑。 我要找样东西。 他那只焦躁的手急忙伸进一个兜里，掏出来一看，是读后没叠好的移民垦殖公司的广告。可放在哪儿了呢? 匆匆忙忙地找。 他赶快又将公司的广告塞了回去。 她说是下午。 我找的是那个。对，那个。所有的兜都翻遍了。handkerchief. 《自由人报》。放在哪儿了呢?对啦。裤子。皮夹子。Potato.我放在哪儿了呢? 快点口。放轻脚步。马上就到啦。我的心脏。 他一边用手摸索着那不知放到哪儿去了的东西，一边念叨着还得去取化妆水。在裤兜里找到了肥皂，上面粘着温吞吞的纸。啊，肥皂在这儿哪。对，来到大门口了。