Mark André ’s Reviews > Finnegans Wake > Status Update

He vows her to be his own honeylamb, swears they will be papa pals, by Sam, and share good times way down west in a guaranteed happy lovenest when May moon she shines and they twit twinkle all the night, combing the comet’s tail up right and shooting popgims at the stars.

It was the first woman, they said, souped him, that fatal wellesday, Lili Coninghams, by suggesting him they go in a field.

Be these meer marchant taylor’s fablings of a race referend with oddman rex.^ Is now all seenheard then forgotten.^ Can it was, one is fain in this leaden age of letters now to wit, that so diversified outrages (they have still to come!) were planned and partly carried out against so staunch a covenanter if it be true than any of those recorded ever took place for many, we trow, beyessed to and denayed of, . . .

Life, he himself said once, (his biografiend, in fact, kills him verysoon, if yet not, after) is a wake, . . .

... this inimage of the seventyseventh kusin of kristansen ...

Television kills telephony in brothers’ broil.

(one is continually firstmeeting with odd sorts of others at all sorts of ages!) who was asked by free boardschool shirkers in drenched coats overawall. . . . , to tell them overagait, . . . , that fishabed ghoatstory of the haardly creditable edventyres of the Haberdasher, the two Curchies and the three Enkelchums in their Bearskin ghoats! Girles and jongers but he has changed alok syne Thorkill’s time!

Of the persins sin this Eyrawyggla saga (which, thorough readable to int from and, is from tubb to buttom all falsetissues, antilibellous and nonactionable and this applies to its whole wholume) of poor Osti-Fosti, described as quite a musical genius in a small way and the owner of an exceedingly niced ear, with tenorist voice to match, not alone,
but a very major poet of the poorly meritary order no one end is known

... and the rhymers’ world was with reason the richer for a wouldbe ballad, to the balledder of which the world of cumannity singing owes a tribute for having placed on the planet’s melomap his lay of the vilest bogeyer but most attractionable avatar the world has ever had to explain for.

If you only were there to explain the mean- ing, best of men, and talk to her nice of guldenselver. The lips would moisten once again. As when you drove with her to Findrinny Fair. What with reins here and ribbons there all your hands were employed so she never knew was she on land or at sea or swooped through the blue like Airwinger’s bride.