Their faces were masks of abject horror, sunken and shriveled, their cheekbones protruding. 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. ” “Do you think so? I find my interest in that sort of thing decline and decline. Montague Hill?” Annabel put her hand suddenly to her throat and steadied herself with the back of a chair. ” Anna sat back in her cab, but found it remain stationary. Additional terms will be linked to the Project Gutenberg-tm License for all works posted with the permission of the copyright holder found at the beginning of this work. “Wow, congratulations, Martin.
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