If you were a poet in need of rhymes, you had only to turn to a certain page. 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. Take that box, and put it into the carriage yourself. On receiving the warning note from the ostler, Jack Sheppard and his companion left Willesden, and taking—as a blind—the direction of Harrow, returned at nightfall by a by-lane to Neasdon, and put up at a little public-house called the Spotted Dog. I wish”— she found she had embarked on a bad sentence—“I wish we needn’t have quarrelled. Leave go, I tell you!" and he forced open the knife with his teeth.
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