Anna was, Livia is, Mirabelle's to be. North men's thing made south folk's place but homely curators made each one in per-son? Latin me that, my trinity scholars, out of sure sans creed indoor Ryan! Circus Civil Eblanensis! He had buck goat paps on him, soft ones for orphans. Ho, Lord! Twins of his bosom. Lord save us! And ho! Hey? What all men. Hot? His tittering daughters of. Hawk? Can't hear with the waters of. The chattering waters of. Flittering bats, field mice back talk. Ho! Are you not gone home? What Them Malone? Can't hear with back of bats, all this differing waters of. Ho, talk save us! My few won't moo. I feel as old as yonder elm. A tale told of Shaun or She? All Livia's daughter-sons. Dark hawks hear us. Night! Night! My ho head halls. I feel as heavy as yonder stone. Tell me of John or Shaun? Who washed and Shaun the living sons or daughters of? Night now! Tell me, tell me, tell me, elm! Night! Telltale of stem or stone. Beside the riverine waters of, hitherandthithering waters of. Night!

Finnegans Wake