He travels after a winter sun, Urging the cattle along a cold red… Calling to them, a voice they know… He drives his beasts above Cabra. The voice tells them home is warm.

Strings in the earth and air Make music sweet; Strings by the river where The willows meet. There’s music along the river

Gentle lady, do not sing Sad songs about the end of love; Lay aside sadness and sing How love that passes is enough. Sing about the long deep sleep

Have you heard of one Humpty Dump… How he fell with a roll and a rumb… And curled up like Lord Olofa Cr… By the butt of the Magazine Wall, (Chorus) Of the Magazine Wall,

Mr Leopold Bloom ate with relish the inner organs of beasts and fowls. He liked thick giblet soup, nutty gizzards, a stuffed roast heart, liverslices fried with crustcrumbs, fried henco...

Preparatory to anything else Mr Bloom brushed off the greater bulk of the shavings and handed Stephen the hat and ashplant and bucked him up generally in orthodox Samaritan fashion whic...

A birdless heaven, seadusk, one lo… Piercing the west, As thou, fond heart, love’s time,… Rememberest. The clear young eyes’ soft look, t…

Rain has fallen all the day. O come among the laden trees: The leaves lie thick upon the way Of memories. Staying a little by the way

I would in that sweet bosom be (O sweet it is and fair it is!) Where no rude wind might visit me. Because of sad austerities I would in that sweet bosom be.

YES because he never did a thing like that before as ask to get his breakfast in bed with a couple of eggs since the City Arms hotel when he used to be pretending to be laid up with a s...