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 am going to ask more than a favour,” she said slowly. “You were there, were you?” He laughed a little impatiently. It had not tasted good since 1350. Old thoughts, old feelings, old faces, and old scenes have returned to me, and I have fancied myself happy,—as happy as I am now. " "Dere's de other door!" cried Mendez, in alarm. It had been brighter than the rest, for dawn light had come in through high unshuttered casements above the bookshelves. “Feel better.
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