He Thought That He Was Sick In

Oh Ireland My First And Only Love Where Christ And Caesar Are Hand In Glove!

The Object Of The Artist Is The Creation Of The Beautiful. What The Beautiful Is Is Another Question.

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.

The Light Music Of Whiskey Falling Into Glasses Made An Agreeable Interlude.

Every Life Is In Many Days, Day After Day. We Walk Through Ourselves, Meeting Robbers, Ghosts, Giants, Old Men, Young Men, Wives, Widows, Brothers-in-love. But Always Meeting Ourselves.