It is better as it is. " "You hear that," whispered Jack. 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. On a stool eight feet high sat a small boy in a faded blue cotton, his face like that of young Buddha. She saw his purpose and his doubt hesitated also, and then went to him, took his coat lapels, and kissed him on the cheek. “Does he live here?” he asked her presently. Sophie'nin bu eşsiz parfümü, Paris'in zenginlerinin dikkatini çekti. "Come and sit down by me. ‘And for you, monsieur le major, it will be well if you do not make me a shock like this again. ‘I can’t think how I’ve tolerated myself all these years.
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