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There is one kind of prison where the man is behind bars, and everything that he desires is outside; and there is another... Options
Daemon
Posted: Tuesday, January 16, 2018 12:00:00 AM
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There is one kind of prison where the man is behind bars, and everything that he desires is outside; and there is another kind where the things are behind the bars, and the man is outside.

Upton Sinclair (1878-1968)
KSPavan
Posted: Tuesday, January 16, 2018 6:04:04 AM

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Quotation of the Day

There is one kind of prison where the man is behind bars, and everything that he desires is outside; and there is another kind where the things are behind the bars, and the man is outside.

Upton Sinclair (1878-1968)
Tauseef Mohammad
Posted: Tuesday, January 16, 2018 1:26:17 PM

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Looks like a saying full of vengeance.
Pieter_Hove
Posted: Tuesday, January 16, 2018 2:19:07 PM

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Tauseef Mohammad wrote:
Looks like a saying full of vengeance.

Why does it look like that in your eyes, Mohammad?
Pieter_Hove
Posted: Tuesday, January 16, 2018 2:20:42 PM

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Daemon wrote:
There is one kind of prison where the man is behind bars, and everything that he desires is outside; and there is another kind where the things are behind the bars, and the man is outside.

Upton Sinclair (1878-1968)


And air quality inside is always poorer than it is outside a house.
Pieter_Hove
Posted: Tuesday, January 16, 2018 2:22:05 PM

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This is one of the best quotes I heard in my life.
Pieter_Hove
Posted: Tuesday, January 16, 2018 2:33:08 PM

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http://www.pagebypagebooks.com/Upton_Sinclair/The_Jungle/Chapter_27_p2.html
It comes from one of his books.
Oh. I misinterpreted the quote. I thought: fair enough, do away with all the materialism. Put the things behind bars, and go outside! Start your life!
(Not kidding.)
Bully_rus
Posted: Tuesday, January 16, 2018 2:45:11 PM
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Daemon wrote:
There is one kind of prison where the man is behind bars, and everything that he desires is outside; and there is another kind where the things are behind the bars, and the man is outside.

Upton Sinclair (1878-1968)


Yeah. Bars not only divide you from your desires but also sometimes create it...
Emel Rapchan
Posted: Tuesday, January 16, 2018 3:40:39 PM

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Upton Sinclair

A talented man who wrote nearly hundred books, most of it regarded as investigative journalism.
He devoted work in clarifying and exposing the corruption in as many areas as politics, food industry, and journalism cast shadows in many businessmen marked specially for unfair and corrupted acts.
His two masterpieces were The Jungle, an expository novel about the meat industry and its unfair relation with the unaware population, and The Brass Check, that is a muck-raking exposition documentary that cast light on the yellow journalism pointing it as a sick form of a reporting system.
monamagda
Posted: Tuesday, January 16, 2018 4:08:47 PM

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Context from: The Jungle
Upton Sinclair


Chapter 27

At the end of about ten days Jurgis had only a few pennies left; and he had not yet found a job--not even a day's work at anything, not a chance to carry a satchel. Once again, as when he had come out of the hospital, he was bound hand and foot, and facing the grisly phantom of starvation. Raw, naked terror possessed him, a maddening passion that would never leave him, and that wore him down more quickly than the actual want of food. He was going to die of hunger! The fiend reached out its scaly arms for him--it touched him, its breath came into his face; and he would cry out for the awfulness of it, he would wake up in the night, shuddering, and bathed in perspiration, and start up and flee. He would walk, begging for work, until he was exhausted; he could not remain still--he would wander on, gaunt and haggard, gazing about him with restless eyes. Everywhere he went, from one end of the vast city to the other, there were hundreds of others like him; everywhere was the sight of plenty and the merciless hand of authority waving them away. There is one kind of prison where the man is behind bars, and everything that he desires is outside; and there is another kind where the things are behind the bars, and the man is outside.

When he was down to his last quarter, Jurgis learned that before the bakeshops closed at night they sold out what was left at half price, and after that he would go and get two loaves of stale bread for a nickel, and break them up and stuff his pockets with them, munching a bit from time to time. He would not spend a penny save for this; and, after two or three days more, he even became sparing of the bread, and would stop and peer into the ash barrels as he walked along the streets, and now and then rake out a bit of something, shake it free from dust, and count himself just so many minutes further from the end.

So for several days he had been going about, ravenous all the time, and growing weaker and weaker, and then one morning he had a hideous experience, that almost broke his heart. He was passing down a street lined with warehouses, and a boss offered him a job, and then, after he had started to work, turned him off because he was not strong enough. And he stood by and saw another man put into his place, and then picked up his coat, and walked off, doing all that he could to keep from breaking down and crying like a baby. He was lost! He was doomed! There was no hope for him! But then, with a sudden rush, his fear gave place to rage. He fell to cursing. He would come back there after dark, and he would show that scoundrel whether he was good for anything or not!

He was still muttering this when suddenly, at the corner, he came upon a green-grocery, with a tray full of cabbages in front of it. Jurgis, after one swift glance about him, stooped and seized the biggest of them, and darted round the corner with it. There was a hue and cry, and a score of men and boys started in chase of him; but he came to an alley, and then to another branching off from it and leading him into another street, where he fell into a walk, and slipped his cabbage under his coat and went off unsuspected in the crowd. When he had gotten a safe distance away he sat down and devoured half the cabbage raw, stowing the balance away in his pockets till the next day.

Read more:http://www.pagebypagebooks.com/Upton_Sinclair/The_Jungle/Chapter_27_p2.html
Jacqueline Williams Schick
Posted: Tuesday, January 16, 2018 7:27:34 PM

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A quote with particular significance for our time.
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