Finnegans Wake Book 1 Chapter 7
Let me see. It is looking pretty black against you, we suggest, Sheem avick. You will need all the elements in the river to clean you over it all and a fortifine popespriestpower bull of attender to booth. Let us pry. We thought, would and did. Cur, quicquid, ubi, quomodo, quoties, quibus auxiliis? You were bred, fed, fostered and fattened from holy childhood up in this two easter island on the piejaw of hilarious heaven and roaring the other place (plunders to night of you, blunders what's left of you, flash as flash can!) and now, forsooth, a nogger among the blankards of this dastard century, you have become of twosome twiminds forenenst gods, hidden and discovered, nay, condemned fool, anarch, egoarch, hiresiarch, you have reared your disunited king- dom on the vacuum of your own most intensely doubtful soul. Do you hold yourself then for some god in the manger, Sheho- hem, that you will neither serve not let serve, pray nor let pray?