An excerpt and its analysis

MR Leopold Bloom ate with relish the inner organs of beasts and

fowls. He liked thick giblet soup, nutty gizzards, a stuffed roast heart,
 liverslices fried with crustcrumbs, fried hencods' roes. Most of all he liked
 grilled mutton kidneys which gave to his palate a fine tang of faintly scented

Kidneys were in his mind as he moved about the kitchen softly,

righting her breakfast things on the humpy tray. Gelid light and air were in
 the kitchen but out of doors gentle summer morning everywhere. Made him
 feel a bit peckish.

The coals were reddening.
Another slice of bread and butter: three, four: right. She didn't like

her plate full. Right. He turned from the tray, lifted the kettle off the hob
 and set it sideways on the fire. It sat there, dull and squat, its spout stuck
 out. Cup of tea soon. Good. Mouth dry.
The cat walked stiffly round a leg of the table with tail on high. -Mkgnao!
-O, there you are, Mr Bloom said, turning from the fire.
The cat mewed in answer and stalked again stiffly round a leg of the
 table, mewing. Just how she stalks over my writing table. Prr. Scratch my
 head. Prr.

Mr Bloom watched curiously, kindly the lithe black form. Clean to

see: the gloss of her sleek hide, the white button under the butt of her tail,
 the green flashing eyes. He bent down to her, his hands on his knees. PAR-Milk for the pussens, he said.
PAR-Mrkgnao! the cat cried.
PARThey call them stupid. They understand what we say better than we
 understand them. She understands all she wants to. Vindictive too. Cruel.
 Her nature. Curious mice never squeal. Seem to like it. Wonder what I look
 like to her. Height of a tower? No, she can jump me.
-Afraid of the chickens she is, he said mockingly. Afraid of the chookchooks. I never saw such a stupid pussens as the pussens. -Mrkrgnao! the cat said loudly.
She blinked up out of her avid shameclosing eyes, mewing plaintively

and long, showing him her milkwhite teeth. He watched the dark eyeslits
 narrowing with greed till her eyes were green stones. Then he went to the dresser, took the jug Hanlon's milkman had just filled for him, poured
 warmbubbled milk on a saucer and set it slowly on the floor.

-Gurrhr! she cried, running to lap.
He watched the bristles shining wirily in the weak light as she tipped
 three times and licked lightly. Wonder is it true if you clip them they can't mouse after. Why? They shine in the dark, perhaps, the tips. Or kind of
 feelers in the dark, perhaps.

He listened to her licking lap. Ham and eggs, no. No good eggs with
 this drouth. Want pure fresh water. Thursday: not a good day either for a
 mutton kidney at Buckley's. Fried with butter, a shake of pepper. Better a
pork kidney at Dlugacz's. While the kettle is boiling. She lapped slower,
 then licking the saucer clean. Why are their tongues so rough? To lap
 better, all porous holes. Nothing she can eat? He glanced round him. No.

On quietly creaky boots he went up the staircase to the hall, paused
 by the bedroom door. She might like something tasty. Thin bread and butter she likes in the morning. Still perhaps: once in a way.

He said softly in the bare hall:
-I'm going round the corner. Be back in a minute.

And when he had heard his voice say it he added: -You don't want anything for breakfast?

A sleepy soft grunt answered:
No. She didn't want anything. He heard then a warm heavy sigh,

softer, as she turned over and the loose brass quoits of the bedstead jingled.
 Must get those settled really. Pity. All the way from Gibraltar. Forgotten
any little Spanish she knew. Wonder what her father gave for it. Old style.
 Ah yes! of course. Bought it at the governor's auction. Got a short knock.
 Hard as nails at a bargain, old Tweedy. Yes, sir. At Plevna that was. I rose
 from the ranks, sir, and I'm proud of it. Still he had brains enough to make
 that corner in stamps. Now that was farseeing.