How shall I speak thee, or thy power address
Thou God of our idolatry, the Press.
. read more

How shall I speak thee, or thy power address
Thou God of our idolatry, the Press.
. . . .
Like Eden's dead probationary tree,
Knowledge of good and evil is from thee.

Advertisements are of great use to the vulgar. First of all, as
they are instruments of ambition. A man read more

Advertisements are of great use to the vulgar. First of all, as
they are instruments of ambition. A man that is by no means big
enough for the Gazette, may easily creep into the advertisements;
by which means we often see an apothecary in the same paper of
news with a plenipotentiary, or a running footman with an
ambassador.

Journalism can never be silent: that is its greatest virtue and its greatest fault. It must speak, and speak immediately, read more

Journalism can never be silent: that is its greatest virtue and its greatest fault. It must speak, and speak immediately, while the echoes of wonder, the claims of triumph and the signs of horror are still in the air.

Nobody's interested in sweetness and light.

Nobody's interested in sweetness and light.

Journalism largely consists of saying "Lord Jones is Dead" to people who never knew that Lord Jones was alive.

Journalism largely consists of saying "Lord Jones is Dead" to people who never knew that Lord Jones was alive.

The difference between literature and journalism is that journalism is unreadable and literature is not read.

The difference between literature and journalism is that journalism is unreadable and literature is not read.

Remember, son, many a good story has been ruined by over-verification.

Remember, son, many a good story has been ruined by over-verification.

If the newspapers of a country are filled with good news, the jails of that country will be filled with read more

If the newspapers of a country are filled with good news, the jails of that country will be filled with good people.

The editor sat in his sanctum, his countenance furrowed with
care,
His mind at the bottom of business, read more

The editor sat in his sanctum, his countenance furrowed with
care,
His mind at the bottom of business, his feet at the top of a
chair,
His chair-arm an elbow supporting, his right hand upholding his
head,
His eyes on his dusty table, with different documents spread.