" "Death and the devil! what a cursed interruption!" cried Jack, impatiently. Sheppard. ” Ann Veronica meditated over that phrase. He came over to me. And he would express various artistic sensibilities and aesthetic appreciations in carefully punctuated sentences and a large, clear voice. 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. What does it matter? I am not a pauper, Annabel.
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