joyce the portrait of an artist as a young man

And his father had given him two five-shilling pieces for pocket money. She was a nice mother but she was not so nice when she cried. But he had pretended not to see that she was going to cry. Nice mother! The first day in the hall of the castle when she had said goodbye she had put up her veil double to her nose to kiss him: and her nose and eyes were red. His mother had told him not to speak with the rough boys in the college. He'd give you a toe in the rump for yourself. He called the Friday pudding dog-in-the-blanket. Rody Kickham had greaves in his number and a hamper in the refectory. Rody Kickham was a decent fellow but Nasty Roche was a stink. Rody Kickham was not like that: he would be captain of the third line all the fellows said. He felt his body small and weak amid the throng of the players and his eyes were weak and watery. He kept on the fringe of his line, out of sight of his prefect, out of the reach of the rude feet, feigning to run now and then. The evening air was pale and chilly and after every charge and thud of the footballers the greasy leather orb flew like a heavy bird through the grey light. All were shouting and the prefects urged them on with strong cries. The wide playgrounds were swarming with boys. Apologize, Pull out his eyes, Pull out his eyes, Apologize. Pull out his eyes, Apologize, Apologize, Pull out his eyes.

Dante said: -O, if not, the eagles will come and pull out his eyes. His mother said: -O, Stephen will apologize. When they were grown up he was going to marry Eileen. Dante gave him a cachou every time he brought her a piece of tissue paper. The brush with the maroon velvet back was for Michael Davitt and the brush with the green velvet back was for Parnell. They were older than his father and mother but uncle Charles was older than Dante.

Joyce the portrait of an artist as a young man