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A dark horse riderless, bolts like a phantom past the winning post, his mane moonflowing, his eyeballs stars.

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If you can put your five fingers throught it, it is a gate, if not a door.

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Her room was warm and lightsome. A huge doll sat with her legs apart in the copious easy-chair beside the bed. He tried to bid his tongue speak that h...more

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And if he had judged her harshly? If her life were a simple rosary of hours, her life simple and strange as a bird's life, gay in the morning, restles...more

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—Then, said Cranly, you do not intend to become a protestant?—I said that I had lost the faith, Stephen answered, but not that I had lost self-respect...more

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For that (the rapt one warns) is what papyr is meed of, made of, hides and hints and misses in prints.

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ah yes I know them well who was the first person in the universe before there was anybody that made it all who ah that they dont know neither do I so ...more

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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 ...more

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Her antiquity in preceding and surviving succeeding tellurian generations: her nocturnal predominance: her satellitic dependence: her luminary reflect...more