No matter. Miss Miniver said that if once she lost her faith in Tolstoy’s sincerity, nothing she felt would really matter much any more, and she appealed to Ann Veronica whether she did not feel the same; and Mr. 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. " "That fiend is ever in my path," exclaimed Mrs. “I am delighted to see you, Mr. She complained of the crowded cities, dismayed that the people were repopulating them like rabbits.
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