And yet the secondary emotion was one of suspicion. 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. ‘I suppose I need not ask to which other soldier you refer. Both of them. “Of course I’m manager for this expedition,” he said, after an interval of self-examination. "May I beg to know whom I've the pleasure of adressing? Jackson, I conclude, is merely an assumed name. But with the morning, the glorious unstained morning the passion of living would stir even the blood of a clod.
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