Europe — the land of high culture, high fashion, delicious food and centuries-spanning history. What’s not to love? 

xxx/ellauri225.html on line 374: Recently, chanting Walt Whitman to himself at night—he describes Whitman as “our repressed voice,” a loosener and liberator whose fearlessness embraces every living moment—Bloom brought forth an almost feverish recollection from over 70 years ago. There was a young lady of 17 with lustrous long red hair. They were students at Cornell and took long walks together, picking apples that she would transform into a delicious applejack. And then, as with his mother, Bloom stops. We learn nothing else about the girl, what transpired, did he score, or what this memory meant to him on this restless night. He has already moved on, to his infatuation with Proust’s “privileged moments” and “sudden ecstasies of revelation,” which bring back to Bloom his dead parents whom he misses dearly.
xxx/ellauri228.html on line 495: With the symbolic preliminaries out of the way, grace was said and the family began to eat the delicious fast foods on the table. Hot mineral oil with ball bearings floating in it, plus colorful red and white-painted walnuts on the trees. No one was permitted to by-pass a food; he or she at least had to taste it or be whacked.
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