Gosse were you born, and Gosse will you remain to your death. 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. ’ ‘Don’t start arguing again, for God’s sake,’ snapped Roding irritably, dragging out his own large pocket-handkerchief. \"Want your pencil back?\" She asked him warily, squinting. The copyright laws of the place where you are located also govern what you can do with this work.
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