Finnegans Wake Book 1 Chapter 3
Cycloptically through the windowdisks and with eddying awes the round eyes of the rundreisers, back to back, buck to bucker, on their airish chaunting car, beheld with in- touristing anterestedness the clad pursue the bare, the bare the green, the green the frore, the frore the cladagain, as their convoy wheeled encirculingly abound the gigantig's lifetree, our fire- leaved loverlucky blomsterbohm, phoenix in our woodlessness, haughty, cacuminal, erubescent (repetition!) whose roots they be asches with lustres of peins. For as often as the Archicadenus, pleacing aside his Irish Field and craving their auriculars to re- cepticle particulars before they got the bump at Castlebar (mat and far!) spoke of it by request all, hearing in this new reading of the part whereby, because of Dyas in his machina, the new garrickson's grimacing grimaldism hypostasised by substintua- tion the axiomatic orerotundity of that once grand old elrington bawl, the copycus's de ion of that fellowcommuter's play upon countenants, could simply imagine themselves in their bo- som's inmost core, as pro tem locums, timesported acorss the yawn- ing (abyss), as once they were seasiders, listening to the cockshy- shooter's evensong evocation of the doomed but always ventri- loquent Agitator, (nonot more plangorpound the billows o'er Thounawahallya Reef!) silkhouatted, a whallrhosmightiadd, a- ginsst the dusk of skumring, (would that fane be Saint Muezzin's calling — holy places! — and this fez brimless as brow of faithful toucher of the ground, did wish it were — blessed be the bones!