―It’s very close, the constable said.

Corny Kelleher sped a silent jet of hayjuice arching from his mouth while a generous white arm from a window in Eccles street flung forth a coin.

―What’s the best news? he asked.

―I seen that particular party last evening, the constable said with bated breath.

A onelegged sailor crutched himself round MacConnell’s corner, skirting Rabaiotti’s icecream car, and jerked himself up Eccles street. Towards Larry O’Rourke, in shirtsleeves in his doorway, he growled unamiably.

― For England⁠ ⁠…

He swung himself violently forward past Katey and Boody Dedalus, halted and growled:

― home and beauty.