Each Piece Of Money Is A Mere

Labor Produces Marvels For The Rich But It Produces Deprivation For The Worker. It Produces Palaces, But Hovels For The Worker. It Produces Beauty, But Deformity For The Worker. It Replaces Labor By Machines, But It Throws One Section Of The Workers Back To Barbaric Labor, And It Turns The Remainder Into Machines.

Anyone Wanting A New House Picks One From Among Those Built On Speculation Or Still In Process Of Construction. The Builder No Longer Works For His Customers But For The Market.

Constant Revolutionizing Of Production, Uninterrupted Disturbance Of All Social Conditions, Everlasting Uncertainty And Agitation Distinguish The Bourgeosis Epoch From All Earlier Ones.

History Repeats Itself, The First As Tragedy, Then As Farce.

There Is No Greater Stupidity Than For People...to Marry And So Surrender Themselves To The Small Miseries Of Domestic And Private Life.