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. " "The boy's not at my house," replied Wild. Fruit trees had been brought all the way from India so their product could be laden on the wedding table, fruits with exotic shapes and haunting flavors ended the meal, cleansing the palate. “You know,” he muttered, “you know quite well that your troubles are far more likely to weigh upon me than my own. ” “It would be my pleasure, madame. ” “It’s these Rascals,” said Mr. Through her door curtain she could see the light from the study lamp.
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