Quotes of All Topics . Occasions . Authors
I've never wanted to do anything but be a newspaperman ever since I was 13.
It's been said that no man is a hero to a newspaperman, and I spent too many years as an ink-stained wretch.
If I get married, I think I'd pick out a newspaperman rather than a millionaire. A newspaperman is a regular fellow.
We need not be theologians to see that we have shifted responsibility for making the world interesting from God to the newspaperman.
Gabriel Garcia Marquez was a newspaperman originally in Colombia. He talked about - and I agree - how everybody has a public life, a private life, and a secret life.
I used to say, 'Hey, man, what kind of a stupid question is that?' to a newspaperman asking me heavy things right after a race when I'm still in an emotional state. Now I at least try to answer.
Another thing that's quite different in writing a book as a practicing newspaperman is that if you look at what you've written the next morning and you think you didn't get it quite right, you can fix it.
One of the first things that helped me to understand certain things about writing was seeing 'The Iceman Cometh' in the Village when I was a kid, before I ever became a newspaperman, and realizing that the world I knew could also be the subject of some amazing stuff.
When I was a lad in my 20s, as carefree and debonair as any other underpaid newspaperman, I happened to be a golfer who could flirt with par fairly often, and I was adventurous enough in those days to play any known or unknown thief who showed up at Goat Hills for whatever amount he fancied.
A newspaperman said, 'You have to have a team in New York.' I replied, 'Who says you have to have a team in New York?' What came out in the papers was a headline that said, Giles Says, 'Who needs New York?' I confess that quote bothered me, and there seemed to be no way to dispose of it. It was repeated again and again.
The pattern of a newspaperman's life is like the plot of 'Black Beauty.' Sometimes he finds a kind master who gives him a dry stall and an occasional bran mash in the form of a Christmas bonus, sometimes he falls into the hands of a mean owner who drives him in spite of spavins and expects him to live on potato peelings.