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. Hilary threw up his eyes. Quilt was not long in following his example. " "Think not to delude me, audacious wretch," cried the carpenter. Will you tell her that?" "I will," replied Thames, earnestly. He had no wish to drag the footman out of his way, once he had got his questions answered.
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