“...like his own rare thoughts, a chemistry of stars.”

“Mother indulgent. Said I have a queer mind and have read too much. Not true. Have read little and understood less.”

“Know all men, he said, time's ruins build eternity's mansions.”

“Stuff it into you, his belly counselled him.”

“What dreams would he have, not seeing. Life a dream for him. Where is the justice being born that way?”

“I am, a stride at a time”

“Jesus was a bachelor and never lived with a woman. Surely living with a woman is one of the most difficult things a man has to do, and he never did it.”

“An exquisite dulcet epithalame of most mollificative suadency for juveniles amatory whom the odoriferous flambeaus of the paranymphs have escorted to the quadrupedal proscenium of connubial communion.”

“Some people, says Bloom, can see the mote in others' eyes but they can't see the beam in their own.”

“—I think he died for me, she answered.”

“He longed to be master of her strange mood.”

“The end he had been born to serve yet did not see had led him to escape by an unseen path and now it beckoned to him once more and a new adventure was about to be opened to him.”

“Good puzzle would be cross Dublin without passing a pub.”

“he said it was sweeter and thicker than cows then he wanted to milk me into the tea...”

“I had never spoken to her, except for a few casual words, and yet her name was like a summons to all my foolish blood.”

“I go to encounter for the millionth time the reality of experience and to forge in the smithy of my soul the uncreated conscience of my race.”

“Eternity! O, dread and dire word. Eternity! What mind of man can understand it?”

“Does nobody understand?”

“I am not afraid to make a mistake, even a great mistake, a lifelong mistake and perhaps as long as eternity too.”

“The barometer of his emotional nature was set for a spell of riot.”

“What is better than to sit at the end of the day and drink wine with friends, or substitutes for friends?”

“He is cured by faith who is sick of fate.”

“No pen, no ink, no table, no room, no time, no quiet, no inclination”

“What? Corpus. Body. Corpse. Good idea the Latin. Stupifies them first. Hospice for the dying. They don't seem to chew it; only swallow it down.”