Bloomsday, Bloomsday,
Everyone loves the Bloomsday.
Bloomsday, Bloomsday,
Ye Gods I hated Ulysses!

Gotta admit- that book kicked my ass. The only one to ever do so besides Max Weber(and that was just boring, not difficult). I even stopped 450 pages into Joyce's "masterpiece" and decided that life was just too goddamned short to endure any more. I'll be up front. Reading it was akin to playing the little game, Hey, it hurts when I do this. Or the other perennial favorite game- What the hell is that mole doing- does it look normal? (the answer is no...it's melanoma. Deal with it.) That's how much fucking joy Joyce gives me. And I have never cracked the cover of Finnegan's Wake. I'm pretty convinced that most people who rave about and have Joyce featured in their bookshelves (prominently, I'm sure) are unqualified snobs who don't really know what the hell they're talking about. They've gotta be onto that Emperor wears no clothes track.

I will admit, however, that I like the following quote from the book- just because there's such a rhythm to it:
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.

And who can forget the following?:

British Beatitudes! … Beer, beef, business, bibles, bulldogs, battleships, buggery and bishops.