James Joyce - Finnegans Wake

-- Now, just wash and brush up your memoirias a little bit. So I find, referring to the pater of the present man, an erely demented brick thrower, I am wondering to myself in my mind, qua our arc of the covenant, was Toucher, a methodist, whose name, as others say, is not really 'Thom', was this salt son of a century from Boaterstown, Shivering William, the sealiest old forker ever hawked crannock, who is always with him at the Big Elm and the Arch after his teeth were shaken out of their suckets by the wrang dog, for having 5 pints 73 of none Eryen blood in him abaft the seam level, the scatterling, wearing his cowbeamer and false clothes of a brewer's grains pattern with back buckons with his motto on, Yule Remember, ostensibly for that occasion only of the twelfth day Pax and Quantum wedding, I'm wondering.

-- I bet you are. Well, he was wandering, you bet, whatever was his matter, in his mind too, give him his due, for I am sorry to have to tell you, hullo and evoe, they were coming down from off him.

-- How culious an epiphany!

-- Hodie casus esobhrakonton?

-- It looked very like it.

-- Needer knows necess and neither garments. Man is minded of the Meagher, wat? Wooly? Walty?

-- Ay, another good button gone wrong.

-- Blondman's blaff! Like a skib leaked lintel the arbour leidend with . . .?

-- Pamelas, peggylees, pollywollies, questuants, quai aquilties, quickamerries.

-- Concaving now convexly to the semidemihemispheres and, from the female angle, music minnestirring, were the subligate sisters, P. and Q., Clopatrick's cherierapest, mutatis mutandis, in pretty much the same pickle, the peach of all piedom, the quest of all quicks?

-- Peequeen ourselves, the prettiest pickles of unmatchemable mute antes I ever bopeeped at, seesaw shallshee. since the town go went gonning on Pranksome Quaine.

-- Silks apeel and sulks alusty?

-- Boy and giddle, gape and bore.

-- I hear these two goddesses are liable to sue him?

-- Well, I hope the two Collinses don't leg a bail to shoot him.

-- Both were white in black arpists at cloever spilling, knickt?

-- Gels bach, I, languised, liszted. Etoudies for the right hand.

-- Were they now? And were they watching you as watcher as well?

-- Where do you get that wash? This representation does not accord with my experience. They were watching the watched watching. Vechers all.

-- Good. Hold that watching brief and keep this witching longuer. Now, retouching friend Tomsky, the enemy, did you gather much from what he let drop? We are sitting here for that.

-- I was rooshian mad, no lie. About his shapeless hat.

-- I suspect you must have been.

-- You are making your thunderous mistake. But I was dung sorry for him too.

-- O Schaum! Not really? Were you sorry you were mad with him then?

-- When I tell you I was rooshiamarodnimad with myself altogether, so I was, for being sorry for him.

-- So?

-- Absolutely.

-- Would you blame him at all stages?

-- I believe in many an old stager. But what seemed sooth to a Greek summed nooth to a giantle. Who kills the cat in Cairo coaxes cocks in Gaul.

-- I put it to you that this was solely in his sunflower state and that his haliodraping het was why maids all sighed for him, ventured and vied for him. Hm?

-- After Putawayo, Kansas, Liburnum and New Aimstirdames, it wouldn't surprise me in the very least.

-- That tare and this mole, your tear and our smile. 'Tis life that lies if woman's eyes have been our old undoing. Lid efter lid. Reform in mine size his deformation. Tiffpuff up my nostril, would you puff the earthworm outer my ear.

-- He could claud boose his eyes to the birth of his garce, he could lump all his lot through the half of her play, but he jest couldn't laugh through the whole of her farce becorpse he warn't billed that way. So he outandouts his volimetangere and has a lightning consultation and he downadowns his pantoloogions and made a piece of first perpersonal puetry that staystale remains to be. Cleaned.

-- Booms of bombs and heavy rethudders?

-- This aim to you!

-- The tail, so mastrodantic, as you tell it nearly takes your own mummouth's breath away. Your troppers are so unrelieved because his troopers were in difficulties. Still let stultitiam done in veino condone ineptias made of veritues. How many were married on that top of all strapping mornings, after the midnight turkay drive, my good watcher?

-- Puppaps. That'd be telling. With a hoh frohim and heh fraher. But, as regards to Tammy Thornycraft, Idefyne the lawn mare and the laney moweress and all the prentisses of wildes to massage him.

-- Now from Gunner Shotland to Guinness Scenography. Come to the ballay at the Tailors' Hall. We mean to be mellay on the Mailers' Mall. And leap, rink and make follay till the Gaelers' Gall. Awake ! Come, a wake ! Every old skin in the leather world, infect the whole stock company of the old house of the Leaking Barrel, was thomistically drunk, two by two, lairking o' tootlers with tombours a'beggars, the blog and turfs and the brandywine bankrompers, trou Normend fashion, I have been told down to the bank lean clorks? Some nasty blunt clubs were being operated after the tradition of a wellesleyan bottle riot act and a few plates were being shied about and tumblers bearing traces of fresh porter rolling around, independent of that, for the ehren of Fyn's Insul, and then followed that wapping breakfast at the Heaven and Covenant, with Rodey O'echolowing how his breadcost on the voters would be a comeback for e'er a one, like the depredations of Scandalknivery, in and on usedtowobble sloops off cloasts, eh? Would that be a talltale too? This was the grandsire Orther. This was his innwhite horse. Sip?

-- Well, naturally he was, louties also genderymen. Being Kerssfesstiydt. They came from all lands beyond the wave for songs of Inishfeel. Whiskway and mortem! No puseyporcious either, invitem kappines all round. But the right reverend priest, Mr Hopsinbond, and the reverent bride eleft, Frizzy Fraufrau, were sober enough. I think they were sober.

-- I think you're widdershins there about the right reverence. Magraw for the Northwhiggern cupteam was wedding beastman, papers before us carry. You saw him hurriedly, or did you if thatseme's not irrelevant? With Slater's hammer perhaps? Or he was in serge?

-- I horridly did. On the stroke of the dozen. I'm sure I'm wrong but I heard the irreverend Mr Magraw, in search of a stammer, kuckkuck kicking the bedding out of the old sexton, red-Fox Good-man around the sacristy, till they were bullbeadle black and bufeteer blue, while I and Flood and the other men, jazzlike brollies and sesuos, was gickling his missus to gackles in the hall, the divileen, (she's a lamp in her throth) with her cygncygn leckle and her twelve pound lach.

-- A loyal wifish woman cacchinic wheepingcaugh! While she laylylaw was all their rage. But you did establish personal contact? In epexegesis or on a point of order?

-- That perkumiary pond is beyawnd my pinnigay pretonsions. I am resting on a pigs of cheesus but I've a big suggestion it was about the pint of porter.

-- You are a suckersome! But this all, as airs said to oska, as only that childbearer might blogas well sidesplit? Where letties hereditate a dark mien swart hairy?

-- Only. 'Twas womans' too woman with mans' throw man.

-- Bully burley yet hardly hurley. The saloon bulkhead, did you say, or the tweendecks?

-- Between drinks, I deeply painfully repeat it.

-- Was she wearing shubladey's tiroirs in humour of her hubbishobbis, Massa's star stellar?

-- Mrs Tan-Taylour? Just a floating panel, secretairslidingdraws, a budge of klees on her schalter, a siderbrass sehdass on her anulas findring and forty crocelips in her curlingthongues.