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[ 5 ] By lorries along sir John Rogerson’s quay Mr Bloom walked soberly , past Windmill lane , Leask’s the linseed crusher , the postal telegraph office . Could have given that address too . And past the sailors ’ home . He turned from the morning noises of the quayside and walked through Lime street . By Brady’s cottages a boy for the skins lolled , his bucket of offal linked , smoking a chewed fagbutt . A smaller girl with scars of eczema on her forehead eyed him , listlessly holding her battered caskhoop . Tell him if he smokes he won’t grow . O let him ! His life isn’t such a bed of roses . Waiting outside pubs to bring da home . Come home to ma , da . Slack hour : won’t be many there . He crossed Townsend street , passed the frowning face of Bethel . El , yes : house of : Aleph , Beth . And past Nichols ’ the undertaker . At eleven it is . Time enough . Daresay Corny Kelleher bagged the job for O’Neill’s . Singing with his eyes shut . Corny . Met her once in the park . In the dark . What a lark . Police tout . Her name and address she then told with my tooraloom tooraloom tay . O , surely he bagged it . Bury him cheap in a whatyoumaycall . With my tooraloom , tooraloom , tooraloom , tooraloom . In Westland row he halted before the window of the Belfast and Oriental Tea Company and read the legends of leadpapered packets : choice blend , finest quality , family tea . Rather warm . Tea . Must get some from Tom Kernan . Couldn’t ask him at a funeral , though . While his eyes still read blandly he took off his hat quietly inhaling his hairoil and sent his right hand with slow grace over his brow and hair . Very warm morning . Under their dropped lids his eyes found the tiny bow of the leather headband inside his high grade ha . Just there . His right hand came down into the bowl of his hat . His fingers found quickly a card behind the headband and transferred it to his waistcoat pocket . So warm . His right hand once more more slowly went over his brow and hair . Then he put on his hat again , relieved : and read again : choice blend , made of the finest Ceylon brands . The far east . Lovely spot it must be : the garden of the world , big lazy leaves to float about on , cactuses , flowery meads , snaky lianas they call them . Wonder is it like that . Those Cinghalese lobbing about in the sun in dolce far niente , not doing a hand’s turn all day . Sleep six months out of twelve . Too hot to quarrel . Influence of the climate . Lethargy . Flowers of idleness . The air feeds most . Azotes . Hothouse in Botanic gardens . Sensitive plants . Waterlilies . Petals too tired to . Sleeping sickness in the air . Walk on roseleaves . Imagine trying to eat tripe and cowheel . Where was the chap I saw in that picture somewhere ? Ah yes , in the dead sea floating on his back , reading a book with a parasol open . Couldn’t sink if you tried : so thick with salt . Because the weight of the water , no , the weight of the body in the water is equal to the weight of the what ? Or is it the volume is equal to the weight ? It’s a law something like that . Vance in High school cracking his fingerjoints , teaching . The college curriculum . Cracking curriculum . What is weight really when you say the weight ? Thirtytwo feet per second per second . Law of falling bodies : per second per second . They all fall to the ground . The earth . It’s the force of gravity of the earth is the weight .
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