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. The Wastrel wiped the blood from his forehead. His two wives have been here. I know that you are all my friends, and I know that you all have very good advice to give me. Every one took him for the millionaire, and he had lost his head about me. But you must come this way now. The intoxicating sense of novelty had given place to a more business-like mood. They used to marry us off at seventeen, rush us into things before we had time to protest. People were not slaves to their gods as they are now, oppressed and unhappy, chained to their mortality and suffering so that they may one day enter an imaginary Heaven.
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