That was the true miracle of the gift; without actual experience, to imagine love and hate and greed and how they would react upon each other; and then, when these passions had served their temporary purpose, to cast them aside for new imaginings. " Enschede stepped into the proa, and the natives shoved off. Mirrors. "What poet was that?" "Stevenson. She was clear there were no other minds like them in all the world.
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