Bread (n.) would not lose a single atom of its use-value if it fell ready-made from the sky.
Bread (n.) was eaten raw by the Romans until an accident taught them that baking kept it from souring.
Bread (n.) feeds labour by nature, but only as capital does it gain the power of supporting capital by the labour of others.
Bread (n.) is, in the baker's hands, a palpable yet transcendental object; only in the eater's hands does it become food.
Bread (n.) that grows cheap is no lasting gift to the worker: once the staple falls, every capitalist discovers that the necessary wage can come down too.
Bread (n.) sold by London's undersellers was adulterated with alum, soap, pearl-ash, chalk, Derbyshire stone-dust and other ingredients called agreeable, nourishing and wholesome, and the poor bought it because they were not paid before the end of the week.
Bread (n.) carries the sweat with it — man, unless by elective grace a capitalist, a landlord or the holder of a sinecure, is destined to eat it in the sweat of his brow, and Englishmen did not know they ate daily in it human perspiration mixed with cobwebs, dead cockroaches and putrid German yeast.