he had no affection left in his life — only the pitiful mockery of it in the camaraderie of vice. - Upton Sinclair

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

That was the pattern of this new society, as Lanny came to know it; boundless cruelty combined with bland and pious lying. The Fascisti would develop falsehood into a new science and a new art; they would teach it to one dictator after another, until half the human race would no longer have any means of telling truth from falsehood.

The old wanderlust had gotten into his blood, the joy of the unbound life, the joy of seeking, of hoping without limit.