Улисс
Chapter 6
Inpaintedchambersloadedwithtilebooks.
Theyarestill.Oncequickinthebrainsofmen.Still:butanitchofdeathisinthem,totellmeinmyearamaudlintale,urgemetowreaktheirwill.
—Certainly,JohnEglintonmused,ofallgreatmenheisthemostenigmatic.Weknownothingbutthathelivedandsuffered.Notevensomuch.Othersabideourquestion.Ashadowhangsoveralltherest.
—ButHamletissopersonal,isn’tit?MrBestpleaded.Imean,akindofprivatepaper,don’tyouknow,ofhisprivatelife.Imean,Idon’tcareabutton,don’tyouknow,whoiskilledorwhoisguilty...
Herestedaninnocentbookontheedgeofthedesk,smilinghisdefiance.Hisprivatepapersintheoriginal.Taanbadarantir.Taiminmoshagart.Putbeurlaonit,littlejohn.
QuothlittlejohnEglinton:
—IwaspreparedforparadoxesfromwhatMalachiMulligantoldusbutImayaswellwarnyouthatifyouwanttoshakemybeliefthatShakespeareisHamletyouhaveasterntaskbeforeyou.
Bearwithme.
Stephenwithstoodthebaneofmiscreanteyesglintingsternunderwrinkledbrows.Abasilisk.Equandovedel’uomol’attosca.MesserBrunetto,Ithanktheefortheword.
—Aswe,ormotherDana,weaveandunweaveourbodies,Stephensaid,fromdaytoday,theirmoleculesshuttledtoandfro,sodoestheartistweaveandunweavehisimage.AndasthemoleonmyrightbreastiswhereitwaswhenIwasborn,thoughallmybodyhasbeenwovenofnewstufftimeaftertime,sothroughtheghostoftheunquietfathertheimageoftheunlivingsonlooksforth.
