Thought is the thought of thought. - James Joyce

God and religion before every thing!' Dante cried. 'God and religion before the world.'

Mr Casey raised his clenched fist and brought it down on the table with a crash.

'Very well then,' he shouted hoarsely, 'if it comes to that, no God for Ireland!'

'John! John!' cried Mr Dedalus, seizing his guest by the coat sleeve.

Dante stared across the table, her cheeks shaking. Mr Casey struggled up from his chair and bent across the table towards her, scraping the air from before his eyes with one hand as though he were tearing aside a cobweb.

'No God for Ireland!' he cried, 'We have had too much God in Ireland. Away with God!

I'll tickle his catastrophe.

Mr Leopold Bloom ate with relish the inner organs of beasts and fowls. He liked thick giblet soup, nutty gizzards, a stuffed roast heart, liverslices fried with crustcrumbs, fried hencods' roes. Most of all he liked grilled mutton kidneys which gave to his palate a fine tang of faintly scented urine.