"I give you all of my genius, and you say—'Get out!' I am some kind of a dog. She could not be more than twenty; and though want and other suffering had done the work of time, had wasted her frame, and robbed her cheek of its bloom and roundness, they had not extinguished the lustre of her eyes, nor thinned her raven hair. Once more he begged; but as Ruth only repeated her sharp command, he spun about and raced toward the jungle. 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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This video was uploaded to bbdy.space on 13-06-2024 00:59:16
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