It is difficult to live in the present, ridiculous to live in the future, and impossible to live in the past. Nothing is as far away as one minute ago.
"James Alonzo "Jim" Bishop" was an American journalist and author.
Born in Jersey City, New Jersey, he dropped out of school after eighth grade. In 1923, he studied typing, shorthand and bookkeeping, and in 1929 began work as a copy boy at the New York Daily News. In 1930, he got a job as a cub reporter at New York Daily Mirror, where he worked until 1943, when he joined Collier's Magazine. He remained until 1945.
His plans to write for his friend and mentor, Hollywood producer Mark Hellinger, ended with Hellinger's death in 1947. Bishop wrote a biography of Hellinger in 1952. From 1946 to 1948, he was executive editor of Liberty (1924–1950)/Liberty magazine, then became director of the literary department at the Music Corporation of America until 1951. He was then founding editor of Gold Medal Books (the juvenile division of Fawcett Publications) until 1953.
In the 1950s, Bishop would do his writing at the Jersey Shore in Sea Bright, New Jersey, going back to his home in Teaneck, New Jersey on weekends to see his wife and children. In 1957, he started his column, "Jim Bishop: Reporter" with King Features Syndicate, which continued until 1983. It also landed him on the master list of Nixon political opponents.
If you enjoy these quotes, be sure to check out other famous journalists! More Jim Bishop on Wikipedia.Watching your daughter being collected by her date feels like handing over a million dollar Stradivarius to a gorilla.
The future is an opaque mirror. Anyone who tries to look into it sees nothing but the dim outlines of an old and worried face.
A newspaper is lumber made malleable. It is ink made into words and pictures. It is conceived, born, grows up and dies of old age in a day.
Golf is played by twenty million mature American men whose wives think they are out having fun.
Death is as casual-and often as unexpected-as birth. It is as difficult to define grief as joy. Each is finite. Each will fade.
It is impossible to read for pleasure from something to which you are both father and mother, born in such travail that the writer despises the thing that enslaved him.
Gimme: an agreement between two losers who can't putt.
The morning after a death, we learned an avalanche of goodies about the renowned, some of which persuaded the reader that he should have cultivated the deceased in life.
True love is night jasmine, a diamond in darkenss, the heartbeat no cardiologist has ever heard. It is the most common of miracles, fashioned of fleecy clouds, a handful of stars tossed into the night sky.
A good writer is not necessarily a good book critic. No more so than a good drunk is automatically a good bartender.
Archaeology is the peeping Tom of the sciences. It is the sandbox of men who care not where they are going; they merely want to know where everyone else has been.
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