Having no more patience, I drew you aside to give you a compliment on your radiant beauty. ’” She played “If I Were a Rich Man,” adding syrupy trills and flourishes at every phrase. “Queer letters he writes,” she said. Her eyes followed him. ‘That’s my pet name. And also she didn’t like them. Visible underneath his collar were some metal tags. 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. Perhaps once it had desired some other human being intolerably.
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