Cloverleaf intersections. A terrible beauty is born.
Unintelligible masterpieces. In his Lectures on Literature, Vladimir Nabokov walked me through Ulysses, but I still didn’t get half of James Joyce’s baffling references, footnotes, and in-jokes. Maybe that’s why I, like so many readers, was thrilled when Molly Bloom utters the last words in the novel:
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