Melusine felt the calloused hand grasp around hers. ” She pulled a small blue box out of the pocket of her hoodie. She was standing before a window, against the background of the rain-burdened April sky. 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. ” “Come on! Why not?” “So I can spend more time with you, of course. His legs were dreadfully swelled; his hands bruised; and his fetters occasioned him intolerable pain.
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