“You are their friend, then?” “I am,” Courtlaw answered. 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. Because she states her case in a tangle, drags it through swamps of nonsense, it doesn’t alter the fact that she is right.
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