Mrs. She wanted to be alone. “It’s all dirt that washes off, dear, but it’s dirt. “My only answer would be to ask you to look at that mirror and then at the poster. 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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