“There are policemen—and buses. “Our ways happened to lie together. The sunshine was brilliant, the air mild. ’ ‘Gammon!’ burst from the captain, who had just tossed off a glass of Madeira. 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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