ZOE: (Examining Stephen’s palm.) Woman’s hand.

STEPHEN: (Murmurs.) Continue. Lie. Hold me. Caress. I never could read His handwriting except His criminal thumbprint on the haddock.

ZOE: What day were you born?

STEPHEN: Thursday. Today.

ZOE: Thursday’s child has far to go. (She traces lines on his hand.) Line of fate. Influential friends.

FLORRY: (Pointing.) Imagination.

ZOE: Mount of the moon. You’ll meet with a... (She peers at his hands abruptly.) I won’t tell you what’s not good for you. Or do you want to know?

BLOOM: (Detaches her fingers and offers his palm.)