"Mr. Bloom ate his strips of sandwich, fresh clean bread, with relish of disgust pungent mustard, the feety savour of green cheese. Sips of wine soothed his palate. Not logwood that. Tastes fuller this weather with the chill off.
Nice quiet bar. Nice piece of wood in that counter. Nicely planed. Like the way it curves there.......[explicit material omitted]...
Stuck, the flies buzzed.
His downcast eyes followed the silent veining of the oaken slab. Beauty; it curves: curves are beauty. Shapely , Venus, Juno: curves the world admires. Can see them library museum standing in the round hall, naked goddesses. Aids to digestion."
Joyce, Ulyssses, Section 8.
"Hullo, Parliament's back!"
Mr. Wilcox glanced at Parliament contemptuously. The more important ropes of life lay elsewhere. "Yes, they are talking again," said he. "But you were going to say–"
"Only some rubbish about furniture. Helen says it alone endures while men and houses perish, and that in the end the world will be a desert of chairs and sofas––just imagine it!––rolling through infinity with no one to sit upon them."
"Your sister always likes her little joke."
E.M. Forster, Howards End