The point is, Spurlock was coming along: queerly, by his own imagination. 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. She did not see the metal pole swing toward the back of her skull, nor did she feel her own blood spoiling her light hair after the dull crack of metal broke her flesh. Now I’ll tell you what I propose. . I will give you a broad free life. Dizzily, she grabbed at the mantel for support and, resting her head on her hands, paid no heed to a betraying sound behind her—until an unexpected arm encircled her. ‘Do not say such things, you—you imbecile. " "You will never become that, Ruth.
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