Night and day have been alike to me. 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. “You will be so late. She was noisy and hilarious and enthusiastic, and her hair was always abominably done. “—and your aunt—” For a time he searched for the mot juste. " Mrs. He did not have to. “And then they are swollen up and inflamed and drunken with matter.
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