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 do hope I have been able to make you understand how I feel, that you don’t consider me a hopeless prig. “I’m so glad my Mom’s letting me go out tonight. "Ah! Owen Wood, is it you?" cried David in astonishment. This was his humiliation as well as hers.
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