Anna opened a cupboard and produced cups and saucers and a tin of coffee. The blades on the top spun faster and faster. “Well,” she admitted. 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. . I’ll try to stay as long as I can. They returned to the castle, neither of them speaking.
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