-- upon my word it makes my blood boil to hear anyone compare aristotle with plato.
-- which of the two， stephen asked， would have banished me from his commonwealth？
unsheathe your dagger definitions. horseness is the whatness of allhorse. streams of tendency and eons they worship. god： noise in the street： very peripatetic. space： what you damn well have to see. through spaces smaller than red globules of man's blood they creepycrawl after blake's buttocks into eternity of which this vegetable world is but a shadow. hold to the now， the here， through which all future plunges to the past.
mr best came forward， amiable， towards his colleague.
-- haines is gone， he said.
-- is he？
-- i was ing him jubainville's book. he's quite enthusiastic， don't you know， about hyde's lovesongs of connacht. i couldn't bring him in to hear the discussion. he's gone to gill's to buy it.
bound thee forth， my booklet， quick
to greet the callous public.
writ， i ween， 'twas not my wish
in lean unlovely english.
the peatsmoke is going to his head， john eglinton opined.
we feel in england. penitent thief. gone. i smoked his baccy. green twinkling stone. an emerald set in the ring of the sea.
-- people do not know how dangerous lovesongs can be， the auric egg of russell warned occultly. the movements which work revolutions in the world are born out of the dreams and visions in a peasant's heart on the hillside. for them the earth is not an exploitable ground but the living mother. the rarefied air of the academy and the arena produce the sixshilling novel， the musichall song， france produces the finest flower of corruption in mallarmé but the desirable life is revealed only to the poor of heart， the life of homer's phæ；acians.
from these words mr best turned an unoffending face to stephen.
-- mallarmé， don't you know， he said， has written those wonderful prose poems stephen mackenna used to read to me in paris. the one about hamlet. he says： il se promène， lisant au livre de lui-même， don't you know， reading the book of himself. he describes hamlet given in a french town， don't you know， a provincial town. they advertised it.