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. His horse, which had apparently gone to sleep, preferred to remain where he was. " "Tell him so, and have done with him, Sir Rowland," observed Jonathan coldly. ‘And we shall see which of us is more quick. “Dear friend,” she said, “do not magnify me into a physiological problem. So while he talked to this girl of work and freedom, his slightly protuberant eyes were noting the gracious balance of her limbs and body across the gate, the fine lines of her chin and neck.
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