My beloved subjects, a new era is about to dawn. I, Bloom, tell you verily it is even now at hand. Yea, on the word of a Bloom, ye shall ere long enter into the golden city which is to be, the new Bloomusalem in the Nova Hibernia of the future. (15.315)
"You die for your country, suppose." (He places his arm on Private Carr's sleeve.) "Not that I wish it for you. But I say: Let my country die for me. Up to the present, it has done so. I don't want to die. Damn death. Long live life!" (15.975)
"- That's right," the old tarpaulin corroborated. "The Irish catholic peasant. He's the backbone of our empire. You know Jem Mullins?"
"While allowing him his individual opinions, as every man," the keeper added "he cared nothing for any empire, ours or his, and considered no Irishman worthy of his salt that served it. Then they began to have a few irascible words, when it waxed hotter, both, needless to say, appealing to the listeners who followed the passage of arms with interest so long as they didn't indulge in recriminations and come to blows." (16.190-191)