The 53+ Upton Sinclair Quotes

It Was Cold And Clammy In The Stone Cell; They Called It The "cooler," And Used It To Reduce The Temperature Of The Violent And Intractable. It Was A Trouble-saving Device; They Just Left The Man There And Forgot Him, And His Own Tormented Mind Did The Rest.

A Large Section Of The Idling Classes Of England Get Their Incomes By Believing That Jesus Was Born Of A Virgin And That Jonah Swallowed A Whale; And With The Progress Of Science They Were Naturally Finding This More And More Difficult. A School Of Ingenious Bible-twisters Arose, To Invent Symbolical And Literary Meanings For Fairy Tales, In Order That People Who No Longer Believed Could Continue With Good Conscience To Collect The Salaries Of Belief.

So The Laws Of Good Driving Forbade You To Go Off The Magic Ribbon Except In Extreme Emergencies. You Were Ethically Entitled To Several Inches Of Margin At The Right-hand Edge; And The Man Approaching You Was Entitled To An Equal Number Of Inches; Which Left A Remainder Of Inches Between The Two Projectiles As They Shot By. It Sounds Risky As One Tells It, But The Heavens Are Run On The Basis Of Similar Calculations, And While Collisions Do Happen, They Leave Time Enough In Between For Universes To Be Formed, And Successful Careers Conducted By Men Of Affairs.

In The Twilight, It Was A Vision Of Power.

Wall Street Had Been Doing Business With Pieces Of Paper; And Now Someone Asked For A Dollar, And It Was Discovered That The Dollar Had Been Mislaid.

But The Devil Is A Subtle Worm; He Does Not Give Up At One Defeat, For He Knows Human Nature, And The Strength Of The Forces Which Battle For Him.

Dad, As A Good American, Believed His Newspapers.

Over The Vast Plain I Wander, Observing A Thousand Strange And Incredible And Terrifying Manifestations Of The Bootstrap-lifting Impulse.

The Proletarian Writer Is A Writer With A Purpose; He Thinks No More Of Art For Art's Sake Than A Man On A Sinking Ship Thinks Of Painting A Beautiful Picture In The Cabin; He Thinks Of Getting Ashore - And Then There Will Be Time Enough For Art.

An Event Of Colossal And Overwhelming Significance May Happen All At Once, But The Words Which Describe It Have To Come One By One In A Long Chain.

It Was All So Very Businesslike That One Watched It Fascinated. It Was Pork-making By Machinery, Pork-making By Applied Mathematics. And Yet Somehow The Most Matter-of-fact Person Could Not Help Thinking Of The Hogs; They Were So Innocent, They Came So Very Trustingly; And They Were So Very Human In Their Protests - And So Perfectly Within Their Rights! They Had Done Nothing To Deserve It; And It Was Adding Insult To Injury, As The Thing Was Done Here, Swinging Them Up In This Cold-blooded, Impersonal Way, Without Pretence At Apology, Without The Homage Of A Tear.

All Art Is Propaganda. It Is Universally And Inescabably Propaganda; Sometimes Unconsciously, But Often Deliberately, Propaganda.