He's got the gift of the gab. If this is the young lady, she can perhaps calm him. Pole coolies came joggling along with bobbing blocks of jade—white jade, splashed and veined with translucent emerald green. 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. Nothing to do; nothing for the hands, the mind, the heart.
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