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. ‘He prayeth best who loveth best—all things both great and small. The lights of the Champs Elysées and the Place de la Concorde, suggestive, brilliant, seductive, shone like an army of fireflies against the deep cool background of the night. ‘This from a man who calls himself my friend. Look at the cock’s feathers, look at the competition there is everywhere, except among humans. But, let's see the prisoner.
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