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. Tell me all that happened, one sister-woman to another. There is strength in you— misguided. I change them in the morning at Cannon Street, and take my book as I come down. Prudence attacked her chicken wing. "But you've done well to trust me.
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