The gates of memory would roll openold joys would stretch out their arms to them, old hopes and dreams would call to them, and they would stir beneath the burden that lay upon them, and feel its forever immeasurable weight. They could not even cry out beneath it; but anguish would seize them, more dreadful than the agony of death.
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About Upton Sinclair, The Jungle
Upton Sinclair, The Jungle.