Stately, plump Buck Mulligan came from the stairhead, bearing a bowl of lather on which a mirror and a razor lay crossed. A yellow dressinggown, ungirdled, was sustained gently behind him on the mild morning air. He held the bowl aloft and intoned:
     - Introibo ad altare Dei.
     Halted, he peered down the dark winding stairs and called out coarsely:
     - Come up, Kinch! Come up, you fearful Jesuit!
     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. Stephen Dedalus, displeased and sleepy, leaned his arms on the top of the staircase and looked coldly at the shaking gurgling face that blessed him, equine in its length, and at the light untonsured hair, grained and hued like pale oak.
     Buck Mulligan peeped an instant under the mirror and then covered the bowl smartly.
     - Back to barracks, he said sternly.

     Mr Leopold Bloom ate with relish the inner organs of beasts and fowls. He liked thick giblet soup, nutty gizzards, a stuffed roast heart, liverslices fried with crustcrumbs, fried hencods’ roes. Most of all he liked grilled mutton kidneys which gave to his palate a fine tang of faintly scented urine.
Kidneys were in his mind as he moved about the kitchen softly, righting her breakfast things on the humpy tray. Gelid light and air were in the kitchen but out of doors gentle summer morning everywhere. Made him feel a bit peckish.
     The coals were reddening.
     Another slice of bread and butter: three, four: right. She didn’t like her plate full. Right. He turned from the tray, lifted the kettle off the hob and set it sideways on the fire. It sat there, dull and squat, its spout stuck out. Cup of tea soon. Good. Mouth dry. The cat walked stiffly round a leg of the table with tail on high.
     - Mkgnao!

     Preparatory to anything else Mr Bloom brushed off the greater bulk of the shavings and handed Stephen the hat and ashplant and bucked him up generally in orthodox Samaritan fashion which he very badly needed. His (Stephen’s) mind was not exactly what you would call wandering but a bit unsteady and on his expressed desire for some beverage to drink Mr Bloom in view of the hour it was and there being no pump of Vartry water available for their ablutions let alone drinking purposes hit upon an expedient by suggesting, off the reel, the propriety of the cabman’s shelter, as it was called, hardly a stonesthrow away near Butt bridge where they might hit upon some drinkables in the shape of a milk and soda or a mineral.

     Yes because he never did a thing like that before as ask to get his breakfast in bed with a couple of eggs since the City Arms hotel when he used to be pretending to be laid up with a sick voice doing his highness to make himself interesting for that old faggot Mrs Riordan that he thought he had a great leg of and she never left us a farthing all for masses for herself and her soul greatest miser ever was actually afraid to lay out 4d for her methylated spirit telling me all her ailments she had too much old chat in her about politics and earthquakes and the end of the world let us have a bit of fun first God help the world if all the women were her sort down on bathingsuits and lownecks of course nobody wanted her to wear them I suppose she was pious because no man would look at her twice I hope Ill never be like her a wonder she didnt want us to cover our faces but she was a welleducated woman certainly and her gabby talk about Mr Riordan here and Mr Riordan there...

     Si perché nol ga mai fato prima una roba compagna come domandar de aver la colazion in leto co un per de ovi de quela volta al hotel City Arms col fazeva finta de star distirà co la vose de maladiz come se el fussi sua maestà per farse piàser de quela vecia carampana dela siora Riordan che el pensava de verla inzinganada e no la ne ga lasà nianca una moneda tuto xe finido in messe per ela che caia la gaveva paura de tirar fora quatro monedine per lalcol denaturà contandome de tuti i sui malani e le solite ciacole riguardo la politica e i teremoti e la fine del mondo prima fane divertir un poco Dio de Dio iuterìa el mondo se le babe fussi tute come ela gnente costumi de bagno e nianca scoladure ovio che nisun gavessi voludo vèderla vistida cussì me par che la iera una santa perché nisun omo la gaveria vardada do volte spero che no diventerò mai compagna de ela una maraveia che no la volessi che tinisimo sconto el viso ma la iera proprio una dona con bona educazion e quele ciacole che no finiva mai sior Riordan de qua sior Riordan de la ...

...the Greeks and the jews and the Arabs and the devil knows who else from all the ends of Europe and Duke street and the fowl market all clucking outside Larby Sharons and the poor donkeys slipping half asleep and the vague fellows in the cloaks asleep in the shade on the steps and the big wheels of the carts of the bulls and the old castle thousands of years old yes and those handsome Moors all in white and turbans like kings asking you to sit down in their little bit of a shop and Ronda with the old windows of the posadas glancing eyes a lattice hid for her lover to kiss the iron and the wineshops half open at night and the castanets and the night we missed the boat at Algeciras the watchman going about serene with his lamp and O that awful deepdown torrent O and the sea the sea crimson sometimes like fire and the glorious sunsets and the figtrees in the Alameda gardens yes and all the queer little streets and the pink and blue and yellow houses and the rosegardens and the jessamine and geraniums and cactuses and Gibraltar as a girl where I was a Flower of the mountain yes when I put the rose in my hair like the Andalusian girls used or shall I wear a red yes and how he kissed me under the Moorish wall and I thought well as well him as another and then I asked him with my eyes to ask again yes and then he asked me would I yes to say yes my mountain flower and first I put my arms around him yes and drew him down to me so he could feel my breasts all perfume yes and his heart was going like mad and yes I said yes I will Yes.

Trieste-Zurich-Paris
1914-1921

...i Greghi e i ebrei e i Arabi e sa el diavolo chi altri ancora de ogni canton de Europa e Duke Street e el mercà dele galine tute a far cocodè fora el Larby Sharon e i poveri musi che se moveva mezi indormenzai e quei tipi nei mantei a dormir in ombra sui scalini e le grandi riode dei cari dei tori e el vecio castel vecio de mile e mile ani si e quei bei Mori tuti in bianco coi turbanti come i re che i te domandava de sentarte nei sui negozieti e Ronda co le vecie finestre dele posadas oci brilanti scondeva una gradelada in modo che el suo amor basassi le gradele e le osterie meze verte de sera e le nachere e la sera che gavemo perso la nave a Algericas la sentinela vanti e in drio tranquilo co la sua lampada e O quel torente fondo e de far paura O e el mar el mar rosso vermilio qualche volta come el fogo e i belisimi tramonti e i figheri dei giardini de la Alameda si e tute quele pice strane strade e le case rosa e blu e zale e le rose e el gelsomin e i zerani e i cactus e Gibiltera de mula dove iero un Fior de montagna si co me son messa la rosa nei cavei come le mule Andaluse o dovaria portarla rossa si e come che el me ga basà soto i muri dei Mori e go pensà ben lu o un altro cossa cambia e dopo che go domandà coi oci de domandarmelo ncora si e po el me ga domandà se volevo si dir si mio fior de montagna e prima lo go strento si e lo go fato distirar su de mi che el senti el mio peto tuto profumà si el suo cuor che dava de mato e si go dito si voio Si.
(Trieste – Zurich – Paris, 1914-1921)