" "So you think," muttered Jack, between his ground teeth. ” “That doesn’t explain sunsets. 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. The thought of Capes flooded her being like long-veiled sunlight breaking again through clouds. At the door to the kitchen, he called out, ‘Pottiswick!’ The old man came out, shoving his chin in the air and glaring.
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