He mounted to the parapet again and gazed out over Dublin bay, his fair oakpale hair stirring slightly.
�God! he said quietly. Isn�t the sea what Algy calls it: a great sweet mother? The snotgreen sea. The scrotumtightening sea. Epi oinopa ponton. Ah, Dedalus, the Greeks! I must teach you. You must read them in the original. Thalatta! Thalatta! She is our great sweet mother. Come and look.