The Jungle

But Juris was not staying. He was a free man now, a buccanneer. The old Wanderlust had got into his blood, the joy of the unbound life, the joy of seeking, of hoping without limit. There were mishaps and discomforts-but at least there was always something new; and only think what it meant to a man who for years had been penned up in one place, seeing nothing but one dreary prospect of shanties and factories, to be suddenly set loose beneth the open sky, to behold new landscapes, new places and new people every hour! To a man whose whole life had consisted of doing one certain thing all adaym until he was so echauted that he could only lie dow and sleep until the next day-and to be now his own master, working as he pleased and when he pleased, and facing a new adventure every hour.

The Jungle. Upton Sinclair. p210