Best 5 quotes of Jack Iams on MyQuotes

Harriet, to hide her excitement, had turned to the bookshelves in the corner between the windows and the fireplace. The books, untidily arranged, some standing, some piled on their sides, with newspapers and magazines wedged among them, confused her. There were no sets and a great many were paper-backed. She saw friends - Mr. Dickens was present — and nodding acquaintances - Laurence Sterne, for instance, and Theodore Dreiser — but they were among strangers: Henry Miller, Norman Douglas, Saki, Ronald Firbank, strangers all.

He looked at the menu dreamily. 'God, it’s good to be eating in France again.' 'It’s good to be eating again,' said Brenda. 'But it’s nice to resume the habit in France.' 'That’s true of so many habits.

Now listen,' said George angrily, 'I’ve been in a newspaper office all evening and I know better than you what’s going on.' 'Nonsense. If there’s one place in the world where nobody knows what’s going on, it’s a newspaper office.

There’s an enormous propaganda machine in this world,' Peter said, 'that tries to make people think love — real, earthy, sweaty love — is wrong. But how in the hell they expect to propagate the race that way is beyond me.

When he was sixteen (1923), Peter got a job as copy boy on a New York tabloid and entered a saltier, more hard-bitten world. It was a roaring, lush, lousy tabloid. Everybody was drunk all the time. The managing editor hired girl reporters on condition they sleep with him. New staffs moved in and were mowed down like the Light Brigade. Chorus girls, debutantes, and widows suspected of murdering their husbands were perched on desks with their thighs showing to be photographed. An endless parade of cranks, freaks, ministers, actresses, and politicians moved through the big babbling room, day and night. The city editor went crazy one afternoon. So did his successor. And among the typewriters and the paste pots and the thighs, Peter walked with simple delight. A young reporter took a liking to him, found he was homeless, and insisted he share an elegant bachelor apartment uptown. There were constant parties, starting at dawn and ending as the hush of twilight settled over the city. People went to work and went to parties until they got the two pursuits confused and never noticed the difference. Whisky was oxygen, women were furniture, thinking was masochism.