masoch

Updated: May 3, 2025

All butting with their skulls to get out of it. Child born every minute somewhere. Mrs Purefoy. He laid both books aside and glanced at the third: Tales of the Ghetto by Leopold von Sacher Masoch. That I had, he said, pushing it by. The shopman let two volumes fall on the counter. Them are two good ones, he said. Onions of his breath came across the counter out of his ruined mouth.

James Joyce - Ulysses