People who are not able to look at the street will never be able to understand class struggle.
“He stood beneath the white tower, and looked up at it with that mournful expression which his face always carried in repose: for one moment he thought of climbing up its cracked and broken stone, and then from its summit screaming down at the silent city as a child might scream at a chained animal.”
Peter Ackroyd | Hawksmoor