James Joyce, Ulysse, fragments tirés de Hades, Episode 6 (fragment avec le cortége funèbre)
 
"All waited. Then wheels were heard from in front turning : then nearer: then horses' hoofs. A jolt. Their carriage began to move, creaking and swaying."

"All watched awhile through their windows caps and hats lifted by passers. Respect. The carriage swerved from the tram track to the smoother road past Watery lane. Mr Bloom at gaze saw a lithe young man, clad in mourning, a wide hat."

"White horses with white frontlet plumes came round the Rotunda corner, galloping. A tiny coffin flashed by. In a hurry to bury. A mourning coach. Unmarried. Black for the married. Piebald for bachelors. Dun for a nun."

"Bom! Upset. A coffin bumped out on to the road. Burst open. Paddy Dignam shot out and rolling over stiff in the dust in a brown habit too large for him. Red face: grey now. Mouth fallen open. Asking what's up now. Quite right to close it. Looks horrid open. Then the insides decompose quickly. Much better to close up all the orifices. Yes, also. With wax. The sphincter loose. Seal up all."

"The high railings of Prospects rippled past their gaze. Dark poplars, rare white forms. Forms more frequent, white shapes thronged amid the trees, white forms and fragments streaming by mutely, sustaining vain gestures on the air. The felly harshed against the curbstone : stopped."
 

 
 

James Joyce, Finnegans Wake.
 (Quelques fragments)
FW 20
For that (the rapt one warns) is what papyr is meed
of, made of, hides and hints and misses in prints. Till ye finally (though not yet endlike) meet with the acquaintance of Mister Typus, Mistress Tope and all the little typtopies. Fillstup. So you need hardly spell me how every word will be bound over to carry three score and ten toptypsical readings throughout the book of Doublends Jined (may his forehead be darkened with mud who would sunder!) till Daleth, mahomahouma, who oped it closeth thereof the. Dor.
 

 

FW 153
Saint Bowery's-without-his-Walls he came (secunding to the one one oneth of the propecies, Amnis Limina Permanent) upon the most unconsciously boggylooking stream he ever locked his eyes with. Out of the colliens it took a rise by daubing itself Ni-non. It looked little and it smelt of brown and it thought in nar- rows and it talked showshallow. And as it rinn it dribbled like any lively purliteasy: My, my, my! Me and me! Little down dream
don't I love thee!

 

James Joyce et Philippe Soupault, sur le script de Anna Livia Plurabelle

 

Anna Livia Plurabelle, fragment. (FW 213-214-215-216)
 lu par James Joyce

"....don't you kennet or haven't I told you every telling has a taling and that's the he and the she of it. Look, look, the dusk is growing! My branches lofty are taking root. And my cold cher's gone ashley. Fieluhr? Filou! What age is at? It saon is late. 'Tis endless now senne eye or erewone last saw Waterhouse's clogh. They took it asunder, I hurd thum sigh. When will they reassemble it? O, my back, my back, my bach! I'd want to go to Aches-les-Pains. Pingpong! There's the Belle for Sexaloitez! And Concepta de Send-us-pray!....."

Ecoutez et lisez le fragment de texte  (cliquer)
 
FW 158
Oh, how it was duusk! From Vallee Maraia to Grasyaplaina, dormimust echo! Ah dew! Ah dew! It was so duusk that the
tears of night began to fall, first by ones and twos, then by threes and fours, at last by fives and sixes of sevens, for the tired ones were wecking, as we weep now with them. O! O! O! Par la
pluie!
 

FW 74
                                      Humph is in his doge. Words weigh no
no more to him than raindrips to Rethfernhim. Which we all
like. Rain. When we sleep. Drops. But wait until our sleeping.
Drain. Sdops.
 

FW403-404

Methought as I was dropping asleep somepart in nonland of where's please (and it was when you and they were we) I heard at zero hour as 'twere the peal of vixen's laughter among mid-night's chimes from out the belfry of the cute old speckled church
tolling so faint a goodmantrue as nighthood's unseen violet
rendered all animated greatbritish and Irish objects nonviewable to human watchers save 'twere perchance anon some glistery gleam darkling adown surface of affluvial flowandflow as again might seem garments of laundry reposing a leasward close at hand in full expectation. And as I was jogging along in a dream as
dozing I was dawdling, arrah, methought broadtone was heard and the creepers and the gliders and flivvers of the earth breath and the dancetongues of the woodfires and the hummers in theirground all vociferated echoating: Shaun! Shaun!
 

FW 427
    And the stellas were shinings. And the earthnight strewed
aromatose. His pibrook creppt mong the donkness. A reek was waft on the luftstream. He was ours, all fragrance. And we were
his for a lifetime. O dulcid dreamings languidous! Taboccoo!
    It was sharming! But sharmeng!
And the lamp went out as it couldn't glow on burning, yep, the lmp wnt out for it couldn't stay alight.
 

 

 


FW 308


FW 293