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. There’s always friction, conflict, unwilling concessions. After all, his was a pleasant face, and a pleasant voice, and very likely Annabel had behaved badly. . “I hope that whatever your plans may be, you will give me the opportunity of seeing something of you now and then. " "But why? In the name of God, why? Your flesh and blood! Have you never loved anything?" "Are you indeed my daughter's lawful husband?" Enschede countered.
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