| Quote #1
These heavy sands are language tide and wind have silted here. (3.62)
What does this thought of Stephen's say about the role of language in relation to the past? Can language become eroded, can it become washed up on the beach like heavy sands? Just how much is our relationship to the physical world around us mediated by language? What effect does time have on the language that we use?
| Quote #2
He took the hilt of his ashplant, lunging it softly, dallying still. Yes, evening will find itself in me, without me. All days make their end. (3.90)
This is one of Stephen's thoughts toward the very end of the "Proteus" episode. To what extent do we think of time as something separate from us? To what extent is it a personal concept? What gives time personal meaning and significance? Is it just a set of measurements that help us keep track of our days?
| Quote #3
Mr Bloom turned over idly pages of The Awful Disclosures of Maria Monk, then of Aristotle's Masterpiece. Crooked botched print. Plates: infants cuddled in a ball in bloodred wombs like livers of slaughtered cows. Lots of them like that at this moment all over the world. All butting with their skulls to get out of it. Child born every minute somewhere. Mrs Purefoy. (10.347)
Bloom speculates idly in "The Wandering Rocks." The passage interests us because people tend to think of time largely in relation to themselves. Time seems vertical, meaning that one moment follows the next but we don't think about all the different things that happen in each of those moments. Here, time seems horizontal. Bloom is thinking broadly about what happens all over the world with each ticking of the minute hand on a clock. How is this idea of horizontal time applicable to the chapter of "The Wandering Rocks" at large?