“You said you were in love with me,” said Ann Veronica; “I wanted to explain —” “I said I loved and wanted you. 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. ” “No! Well, I just suggested it. ” He was obviously puzzled. " "Horrible!" cried Mrs. The primitive superstition of his Puritan forbears was his; and before this the buckler of his education disintegrated.
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