Quotation from: UlyssesWritten by: James Joyce |
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Noon slumbers. Kevin Egan rolls gunpowder cigarettes through fingers smeared with printer's ink, sipping his green fairy as Patrice his white. About us gobblers fork spiced beans down their gullets. UN DEMI SETIER! A jet of coffee steam from the burnished caldron. She serves me at his beck. IL EST IRLANDAIS. HOLLANDAIS? NON FROMAGE. DEUX IRLANDAIS, NOUS, IRLANDE, VOUS SAVEZ AH, OUI! She thought you wanted a cheese HOLLANDAIS. Your postprandial, do you know that word? Postprandial. There was a fellow I knew once in Barcelona, queer fellow, used to call it his postprandial. Well: SLAINTE! Around the slabbed tables the tangle of wined breaths and grumbling gorges. His breath hangs over our saucestained plates, the green fairy's fang thrusting between his lips. Of Ireland, the Dalcassians, of hopes, conspiracies, of Arthur Griffith now, A E, pimander, good shepherd of men. To yoke me as his yokefellow, our crimes our common cause. You're your father's son. I know the voice. His fustian shirt, sanguineflowered, trembles its Spanish tassels at his secrets. M. Drumont, famous journalist, Drumont, know what he called queen Victoria? Old hag with the yellow teeth. VIEILLE OGRESSE with the DENTS JAUNES. Maud Gonne, beautiful woman, LA PATRIE, M. Millevoye, Felix Faure, know how he died? Licentious men. The froeken, BONNE A TOUT FAIRE, who rubs male nakedness in the bath at Upsala. MOI FAIRE, she said, TOUS LES MESSIEURS. Not this MONSIEUR, I said. Most licentious custom. Bath a most private thing. I wouldn't let my brother, not even my own brother, most lascivious thing. Green eyes, I see you. Fang, I feel. Lascivious people.
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