Once we thought, journalists and readers alike, that if we put together enough “facts” and gave them a fast stir, we would come up with something that, at least by the standards of short-order cooks, could be called the truth.

Giving jazz the Congressional seal of approval is a little like making Huck Finn an honorary Boy Scout.

It is one test of a fully developed writer that he reminds us of no one but himself.

To choose art means to turn one’s back on the world, or at least on certain of its distractions.

Nothing is more idealistic than a journalist on the defensive.

Once we thought, journalists and readers alike, that if we put together enough “facts” and gave them a fast stir, we would come up with something that, at least by the standards of short-order cooks, could be called the truth.

Watching baseball under the lights is like observing dogs indoors, at a pedigree show. In both instances, the environment is too controlled to suit the species.

Journalists do not like to report on uncertainties. They would almost rather be wrong than ambiguous.