’ Kimble chewed his lip, but his hostility was visibly lessening. ‘There is little I can do at present. 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. He was angry. And go quickly that I may finish to search. Sir James Thornhill, then, rose.
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