They become machines to serve others more lucky or more unscrupulous than themselves.

What is the world of art, of music, of literature, to these poor devils--to Sim Burns and his wife there, for example?
Or even to the best of these farmers ?" The girl looked away over the shimmering lake of yellow-green corn.

A choking came into her throat.

Her gloved hand trembled.
"What is such a life worth?
It's all very comfortable for us to say, 'They don't feel it.' How do we know what they feel?
What do we know of their capacity for enjoyment of art and music?
They never have leisure or opportunity.

The master is very glad to be taught by preacher, and lawyer, and novelist, that his slaves are contented and never feel any longings for a higher life.