John Dos Passos
John Roderigo Dos Passos (/dɵsˈpæsɵs/; January 14, 1896 – September 28, 1970) was an American novelist and artist.
Read more about John Dos Passos: Early Life, Literary Career, U.S.A. Trilogy, Artistic Career, Influence, Dos Passos Prize, Literary Works, Published As
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“The people of this country are too tolerant. There’s no other country in the world where they’d allow it... After all we built up this country and then we allow a lot of foreigners, the scum of Europe, the offscourings of Polish ghettos to come and run it for us.”
—John Dos Passos (1896–1970)
“There’s something wonderfully exciting about the quiet sing song of an aeroplane overhead with all the guns in creation lighting out at it, and searchlights feeling their way across the sky like antennae, and the earth shaking snort of the bombs and the whimper of shrapnel pieces when they come down to patter on the roof.”
—John Dos Passos (1896–1970)
“His spiritual life has been exaggerated by a chronic attack of mental gallstones.”
—Oliver St. John Gogarty (1878–1957)
“The jeweled stripes on the window ran straight down when the train stopped and got more and more oblique as it speeded up. The wheels rumbled in her head, saying Man-hattan Tran-sfer Man-hattan Tran-sfer.”
—John Dos Passos (1896–1970)
“Time has an undertaking establishment on every block and drives his coffin nails faster than the steam riveters rivet or the stenographers type or the tickers tick out fours and eights and dollar signs and ciphers.”
—John Dos Passos (1896–1970)