A journal should be neither an echo nor a pander.
Among all the complaints you hear these days about the crimes of the media, it seems to me the critics miss the big one. It is that especially TV, but also we of the print press, tend to reduce mess and complexity and ambiguity to a simple story line that doesn't reflect reality so much as it distorts it. ... What bothers me about the journalistic tendency to reduce unmanageable reality to self-contained, movielike little dramas is not just that we falsify when we do this. It is also that we really miss the good story.
The Press blew, the public stared, hands flew out like a million little fishes after bread.
Dead news like dead love has no phoenix in its ashes.
In today's amphetamine world of news junkies, speed trumps thoughtfulness too often.
On television, journalists now routinely appear on talk-shows-with-an-attitude where they are encouraged to say what they think about something they may not have finished thinking about.
Writing good editorials is chiefly telling the people what they think, not what you think.
Some of the qualities that go into making a good reporter - aggressiveness, a certain sneakiness, a secretive nature, nosiness, the ability to find out that which someone wants hidden, the inability to take 'no' with any sort of grace, a taste for gossip, rudeness, a fair disdain for what people will think of you and an occasional and calculated disregard for rules - are also qualities that go into making a very antisocial human being.
Never joke with the press. Irony does not translate into newsprint.
Working as a journalist is exactly like being a wallflower at an orgy.
There is no reason to confuse television news with journalism.
The more abhorrent a news item the more comforting it was to be the recipient, since the fact that it had happened elsewhere proved that it had not happened here, was not happening here, and would therefore never happen here.
I often plagiarize from myself. I like to think of this as ecological journalism: I recycle.
In Czechoslovakia there is no such thing as freedom of the press. In the United States there is no such thing as freedom from the press.
The Press nowadays is not a literary press; classic diction and brilliancy of style do not distinguish it by any means.
We do not precisely enjoy liberty at the Figaro. M. de Latouche, our worthy director (ah! you should know the fellow), is always hanging over us, cutting, pruning, right or wrong, imposing upon us his whims, his aberrations, his fancies, and we have to write as he bids.
[On journalists:] We are a noisy, imperfect lot, struggling to scribble what has been called the first draft of history.
the whole point of muck-raking, apart from all the jokes, is to try to do something about what you've been writing about. You may not be able to change the world but at least you can embarrass the guilty.
The fact of being reported increases the apparent extent of a deplorable development by a factor of ten.
Being a journalist seemed the ideal way of both having a job and experiencing the world, especially for anyone with a sense of adventure.
[On journalists:] They are the scavengers of society who, possessing no guts of their own, tear out the guts of celebrities. They have the sycophantic, false enthusing gush of maiden aunts: who are accustomed to being trampled on doormats.
[On journalists:] They are as disruptive a menace to the public body: as grating turds in the intestines are to the private body.
[On journalists:] ... however lyingly libellous they may be: nobody can seriously hurt the reputation of a Great person. If he is hurt: he is not Great. They can but scratch at his skin with their mice nails.
the systematic abuse with which the newspapers of one side assail every candidate coming forward on the other, is the cause of many honorable men, who have a regard to their reputation, being deterred from entering public life; and of the people being thus deprived of some better servants than any they have.
Journalism is an extraordinary and terrible privilege. Not by chance, if you are aware of it, does it consume you with a hundred feelings of inadequacy. Not by chance, when I find myself going through an event or an important encounter, does it seize me like anguish, a fear of not having enough eyes and enough ears and enough brains to look and listen and understand like a worm hidden in the wood of history.
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