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. ‘It is Yol—’ She broke off abruptly, her face collapsing into an expression of acute consternation. “My only answer would be to ask you to look at that mirror and then at the poster.
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