Even in the meanest sorts of labor, the whole soul of a man is composed into a kind of real harmony the instant he sets himself to work. – Thomas Carlyle
We call it a Society; and go about professing openly the totalest separation, isolation. Our life is not a mutual helpfulness; but rather, cloaked under due laws-of-war, named fair competition and so forth, it is a mutual hostility. – Thomas Carlyle
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