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. 175 “Before you tell me the whole story,” she emphasized the penultimate word, “just let me do something for you. She slept in a bedroom clad in linens and skins, walked down hallways bedecked in the most gay and colorful frescos. ” “That doesn’t explain sunsets.
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