Stephen followed a lubber⁠ ⁠…

One day in the national library we had a discussion. Shakes. After his lub back I followed. I gall his kibe.

Stephen, greeting, then all amort, followed a lubber jester, a wellkempt head, newbarbered, out of the vaulted cell into a shattering daylight of no thoughts.

What have I learned? Of them? Of me?

Walk like Haines now.

The constant readers’ room. In the readers’ book Cashel Boyle O’Connor Fitzmaurice Tisdall Farrell parafes his polysyllables. Item: was Hamlet mad? The quaker’s pate godlily with a priesteen in booktalk.

―O please do, sir⁠ ⁠… I shall be most pleased⁠ ⁠…

Amused Buck Mulligan mused in pleasant murmur with himself, selfnodding:

―A pleased bottom.