Finnegans Wake Notes

189.01 the wious pish of your cogodparents, soph, among countless

189.02 occasions of failing (for, said you, I will elenchate), adding to the

189.03 malice of your transgression, yes, and changing its nature, (you

189.04 see I have read your theology for you) alternating the morosity

189.05 of my delectations —— a philtred love, trysting by tantrums,

189.06 small peace in ppenmark —— with sensibility, sponsibility, passi-

189.07 bility and prostability, your lubbock's other fear pleasures of a

189.08 butler's life, even extruding your strabismal apologia, when

189.09 legibly depressed, upon defenceless paper and thereby adding to

189.10 the already unhappiness of this our popeyed world, scribblative!

189.11 —— all that too with cantreds of countless catchaleens, the man-

189.12 nish as many as the minneful, congested around and about you

189.13 for acres and roods and poles or perches, thick as the fluctuant

189.14 sands of Chalwador, accomplished women, indeed fully edu-

189.15 canded, far from being old and rich behind their dream of arri-

189.16 visme, if they have only their honour left, and not deterred by bad

189.17 weather when consumed by amorous passion, struggling to pos-

189.18 sess themselves of your boosh, one son of Sorge for all daughters

189.19 of Anguish, solus cum sola sive cuncties cum omnibobs (I'd have

189.20 been the best man for you, myself), mutely aying for hat natural

189.21 knot, debituary vases or vessels preposterous, for what would

189.22 not have cost you ten bolivars of collarwork or the price of one

189.23 ping pang, just a lilt, let us trillt, of the oldest song in the wooed

189.24 woodworld, (two-we! to-one!), accompanied by a plain gold

189.25 band! Hail! Hail! Highbosomheaving Missmisstress Morna of

189.26 the allsweetheartening bridemuredemeanour! Her eye's so glad-

189.27 some we'll all take shares in the ———— groom!

189.28 Sniffer of carrion, premature gravedigger, seeker of the nest

189.29 of evil in the bosom of a good word, you, who sleep at our vigil

189.30 and fast for our feast, you with your dislocated reason, have

189.31 cutely foretold, a jophet in your own absence, by blind poring

189.32 upon your many scalds and burns and blisters, impetiginous sore

189.33 and pustules, by the auspices of that raven cloud, your shade, and

189.34 by the auguries of rooks in parlament, death with every disaster,

189.35 the dynamitisation of colleagues, the reducing of records to

189.36 ashes, the levelling of all customs by blazes, the return of a lot