Ulysses by James Joyce Chapter 2 Page 5

Had Pyrrhus not fallen by a beldam’s hand in Argos or Julius Caesar not been knifed to death.

They are not to be thought away. Time has branded them and fettered they are lodged in the room of the infinite possibilities they have ousted. But can those have been possible seeing that they never were? Or was that only possible which came to pass? Weave, weaver of the wind.

Tell us a story, sir.

O, do, sir. A ghoststory.

Where do you begin in this? Stephen asked, opening another book.

Weep no more, Comyn said.

Go on then, Talbot.

And the story, sir?

After, Stephen said. Go on, Talbot.