‘So now we come to it. I can’t tell anyone certain things about my life. With what airs we human atoms invest ourselves! What ridiculous fancies of our importance! We believe we have destinies, when we have only destinations: that we are something immortal, when each of us is in truth only the repository of a dream. She bounced onto her bottom. ” “Wherever you like!” he answered, a little absently. “You’ve got my view,” he said, after a pensive second.
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