We two just love each other—the real, identical other—all the time. “How will you live?” she appealed. Watching her strip had been delicious for him, and a part of him enjoyed her self-consciousness acutely. ’ ‘You see? Not to be trusted,’ Hilary uttered disgustedly. 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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