“Mere sensuality. When she released him he ran down the beach for a stick which he fetched and laid at her feet. Give me your name, girl!’ ‘Again?’ Mademoiselle rolled her eyes. 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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