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. ‘What Gerald wants with you has me beat. He meditated, and began a new paragraph. ” “No! Well, I just suggested it. Bring your liveralong?" "I sometimes wonder if I have any—if it isn't the hole where it was that aches. And, in fact, all round the problem you don’t know and I don’t see how I could possibly have told you before. ” “I’ll frame it—when I get it.
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