He was unheeded, happy, and near to the wild heart of life

Stately, plump Buck Mulligan came from the stairhead, bearing a bowl of lather on which a mirror and a razor lay crossed. A yellow dressinggown, ungirdled, was sustained gently behind him by the mild morning air. He held the bowl aloft and intoned: ----Introibo ad altare Dei.

Phall if you but will, rise you must: and none so soon either shall the pharce for the nunce come to a setdown secular phoenish.

Places remember events.

The heaventree of stars hung with humid nightblue fruit.

I don't want to die. Damn death. Long live life.

A nation is the same people living in the same place.