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Updated: May 10, 2025
Solemnly he came forward and mounted the round gunrest. He faced about and blessed gravely thrice the tower, the surrounding land and the awaking mountains. Then, catching sight of Stephen Dedalus, he bent towards him and made rapid crosses in the air, gurgling in his throat and shaking his head.
Dedalus, said MacCann crisply, I believe you're a good fellow but you have yet to learn the dignity of altruism and the responsibility of the human individual. A voice said: Intellectual crankery is better out of this movement than in it. Stephen, recognizing the harsh tone of MacAlister's voice did not turn in the direction of the voice.
A dwarf's face, mauve and wrinkled like little Rudy's was. Dwarf's body, weak as putty, in a whitelined deal box. Burial friendly society pays. Penny a week for a sod of turf. Our. Little. Beggar. Baby. Meant nothing. Mistake of nature. If it's healthy it's from the mother. If not from the man. Better luck next time. Poor little thing, Mr Dedalus said. It's well out of it.
Come as a surprise, Leixlip, Clonsilla. Dropping down lock by lock to Dublin. With turf from the midland bogs. Salute. He lifted his brown straw hat, saluting Paddy Dignam. They drove on past Brian Boroimhe house. Near it now. I wonder how is our friend Fogarty getting on, Mr Power said. Better ask Tom Kernan, Mr Dedalus said. How is that? Martin Cunningham said. Left him weeping, I suppose?
Mr Dedalus had ordered drisheens for breakfast and during the meal he cross-examined the waiter for local news. For the most part they spoke at cross purposes when a name was mentioned, the waiter having in mind the present holder and Mr Dedalus his father or perhaps his grandfather.
He turned to the flyleaf of the geography and read what he had written there: himself, his name and where he was. Stephen Dedalus Class of Elements Clongowes Wood College Sallins County Kildare Ireland Europe The World The Universe That was in his writing: and Fleming one night for a cod had written on the opposite page: Stephen Dedalus is my name, Ireland is my nation.
He wondered how his father, whom he knew for a shrewd suspicious man, could be duped by the servile manners of the porter; and the lively southern speech which had entertained him all the morning now irritated his ears. They passed into the anatomy theatre where Mr Dedalus, the porter aiding him, searched the desks for his initials.
Give it up, father, Dilly said. All the people are looking at you. Mr Dedalus drew himself upright and tugged again at his moustache. Did you get any money? Dilly asked. Where would I get money? Mr Dedalus said. There is no-one in Dublin would lend me fourpence. You got some, Dilly said, looking in his eyes. How do you know that? Mr Dedalus asked, his tongue in his cheek.
Which event or person emerged as the salient point of his narration? Stephen Dedalus, professor and author. What limitations of activity and inhibitions of conjugal rights were perceived by listener and narrator concerning themselves during the course of this intermittent and increasingly more laconic narration? How?
Stephen Dedalus stepped up, followed him wearily halfway and sat down on the edge of the gunrest, watching him still as he propped his mirror on the parapet, dipped the brush in the bowl and lathered cheeks and neck. Buck Mulligan's gay voice went on. My name is absurd too: Malachi Mulligan, two dactyls. But it has a Hellenic ring, hasn't it? Tripping and sunny like the buck himself.
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