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” She said to him as they walked past houses down the block. The houses on Snow Hill were thronged, like those in Old Bailey. 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. “You are their friend, then?” “I am,” Courtlaw answered. Leonardo would not have married her.
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