Finnegans Wake page-a-day: Page 153

Assigned reading (3 2/2 pars [] plus 188 notes) [secondary] [*]

FDV: "wrong lane he met the Grapes {he came upon a little river. It was little and it was brown and it was narrow and it was shallow. And as it ran it dribbled. My, my, my! Me, me, me! Little brown dream don't I love me?} The Grapes was fit to be dried for why had he not been having the juice of his time? His pips had been nearly all drowned on him, his polps were charging odours every older minute, he was for getting the dresser's designs into the flypape of his frons and he was quickly forgiving the bailiff's distrain on the balkside of his cul de pompe. In all his specious heavings, as he lived by Optimus Maximus, the moose had never seen {~~such a scapegrapes~~} his brooder so near a pickle. "Woe, He stood before the Grapes and looked all up aurignacian in his outfit. "Fie, sour!" said he to the scapegrapes "Have you not a shambleful. Our Father He saw a stone and on that stone he sate his seat and with his unfallable upon his in and his fresherman's trop blague he was the laical likenesses of Leo of the Faultyfinth. —How do you do it, Mr [...] Mookse? cheeped the Gripes"

FDV2: "wrong lane he came upon a stream. It was little and it was brown and it was narrow and it was shallow. And as it ran it dribbled like any-lively purl-it-easy. My, my, my! Me, me, me! Little brown dream don't I love me? And, I declare! Who was there on the yonder side of the stream, parched on the a limb of the olum but the Grapes. no doubt he was fit to be dried for why had he not been having the juice of his time? His pips had been nearly all drowned on him, his polps were charging odours every older minute, he was quickly for getting the dresser's designs on the flypage of his frons and he was quickly for giving the bailiff's distrain on the balkside of his cul de pompe. In all his specious heavings, as he lived by Optimus Maximus, the moose had never seen his brooder so near a pickle. He stood before the Grapes all in an outfit of Aurignacian. "Fie, sour!" said he to the scapegrapes "Have you not a shambleful. Our Father He sor a stone and on that stone he sate his seat ~~like where~~ {which} it filled to the ~~full~~ {fullest} justotoryum and whereupon with his unfallable upon his alloilable and the pederect he walked with his fresherman's blague Bellua Triumphans he looked the last laical likenesses of Quartus V Quintus the Sixth ~~taking~~ {giving} allnight sittings to Leo of the Faultyfinth. —Good appetite How do you do it, Sir Mookse? cheeped the Gripes in a wherry whiggy voice and the jackasses"

mysteries:

[08:26-08:55]