She had very few clear memories before a particular day in the library, when they had finished one of her first reading lessons. ” Annabel laughed derisively and took up her book. " As he spoke, the door of the round-house was opened, and a stout man, with a lantern in his hand, presented himself at the threshold. ” Dessert was served. ’ ‘Don’t call me by name,’ she snapped. 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.
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