Wednesday 15 January 1941: 'Joyce is dead -- Joyce about a fortnight younger than I am. I remember Miss Weaver, in wool gloves, bringing Ulysses in type script to our tea table at Hogarth House [...] Would we devote our lives to printing it [at Hogarth Press]? [...] the pages reeled with indecency. I put it in the drawer of the inlaid cabinet. One day Katherine Mansfield came, & I had it out. She began to read, ridiculing: then suddenly said, But theres something in this: a scene that should figure I suppose in the history of literature.'