muskperfumed.

Ulysses, by James Joyce. People, seriously, SERIOUSLY, read this book. I am overwhelmed with how in love with it I am (and i'm still less than 1/6 done with it!). I wish I could share a million more quotes because I've written all over the text, but these will do for now!

"You behold in me, Stephen said with grim displeasure, a horrible example of free thought."

"The boy's blank face asked the blank window."

"Gold light on sea, on sand, on boulders. The sun is there, the slender trees, the lemon houses. . . . Paris rawly waking, crude sunlight on her lemon streets. Moist pith of farls of bread, the froggreen wormwood, her matin incense, court the air. Belluomo rises from the bed of his wife's lover's wife, the kerchiefed housewife is astir, a saucer of acetic acid in her hand. In Rodot's Yvonne and Madeleine newmake their tumbled beauties, shattering with gold teeth chaussons of pastry, their mouths yellowed with the pus of flan breton. Faces of Paris men go by, their wellpleased pleasers, curled conquistadores."

"His fustian shirt, sanguineflowered, trembles its Spanish tassels at his secrets."

"Disguises, clutched at, gone, not here."

"She is quite nicey comfy without her outcast man."

"My soul walks with me, form of forms. So in the moon's midwatches I pace the path above the rocks, in sable silvered, hearing Elsinore's tempting flood. The flood is following me."

"These heavy sands are language tide and wind have silted here."

"For that are you pining, the bark of their applause? Pretenders: live their lives."

"Waters: bitter death: lost."

"Makes you feel young. Somewhere in the east: early morning: set off at dawn. Travel round in front of the sun, steal a day's march on him. Keep it up for ever never grow a day older technically. . . . Dander along all day. Might meet a robber or two. Well, meet him. Getting on to sundown. The shadows of the mosques among the pillars: priest with a scroll rolled up. A shiver of the trees, signal, the evening wind. I pass on. Fading gold sky. A mother watches me from her doorway. She calls her children home in their dark language. . . . He prolonged his pleased smile. . . . From the cellar grating floated up the flabby gush of porter. Through the open doorway the bar squirted out whiffs of ginger, teadust, biscuitmush."

"A speck of eager fire from foxeyes thanked him."

"Quick warm sunlight came running from Berkeley road, swiftly, in slim sandals, along the brightening footpath. Runs, she runs to meet me, a girl with gold hair on the wind."

"A raindrop spat on his hat."

"--Wait a moment, professor MacHugh said, raising two quiet claws. We mustn't be led away by words, by sounds of words. We think of Rome, imperial, imperious, imperative."

AND MAGNIFICENT WORDS:

Muskperfumed.

Dewsilky.

Gorescarred.

Illdyed.

Contransmagnificandjewbangtantiality.

Brightwindbridled.

Cleanchested.

Bigdrumming.

Hundredheaded.

Creepystools.

Loudlatinlaughing.

Shellcocoacoloured.

Lacefringe.

Seawardpointed.

Outofthat.

Unsmelt.

Almosting.

Creamfruit.

Shefiend.

Dislove.

Shameclosing eyes.

Moustachecup.

Distinguishedlooking.

Lilypots.

Antient.

Hugecloaked.

Wideopen eyes.

Secretsearching.

Corpsemanure.

Blueglancing.

Quicklime.

The pleasantest.

Sappyhead.

Statelily.

Citronlemon.

Biscuitfully.

Wellread fellow.

Unshaven blackspectacled face.

!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!