James Thurber

James Thurber

WRITER

James Grover Thurber was born in 1894 in Columbus, Ohio. He began his career as a reporter for the Columbus Evening Dispatch. He became known for his work on The New Yorker, where he was a writer and a cartonist. His most famous story is "The Secret Life of Walter Mitty".
  • When was
    James Thurber born?

    James Thurber was born on Saturday, December 8, 1894

  • Where was
    James Thurber born?

    James Thurber was born in Columbus, Ohio, USA

  • How old was
    James Thurber when they died?

    James Thurber was 67

  • When did James Thurber die?

    James Thurber died on
    Thursday, November 2, 1961


Best Quotes

  • The wit makes fun of other persons; the satirist makes fun of the world; the humorist makes fun of himself, but in so doing, he identifies him...
  • But what is all this fear of and opposition to Oblivion? What is the matter with the soft Darkness, the Dreamless Sleep?
  • Art—the one achievement of Man which has made the long trip up from all fours seem well advised.
  • Next to reasoning, the greatest handicap to the optimum development of Man lies in the fact that this planet is just barely habitable. Its minimum temperatures are too low, and its maximum temperatures too high. Its day is not long enough, and its night is too long. The disposition of its water and earth is distinctly unfortunate (the existence of the Mediterranean Sea in the place where we find it is perhaps the unhappiest accident in the whole firmament). These factors encourage depression, fear, war, and lack of vitality. They describe a planet, which is by no means perfectly devised for the nurturing or for the perpetuation of a higher intelligence.
  • It's a na?ve domestic Burgundy without any breeding, but I think you'll be amused by its presumption.
  • Man is flying too fast for a world that is round. Soon he will catch up with himself in a great rear end collision.
  • If a playwright tried to see eye to eye with everybody, he would get the worst case of strabismus since Hannibal lost an eye trying to count his nineteen elephants during a snowstorm while crossing the Alps.
  • But those rare souls whose spirit gets magically into the hearts of men, leave behind them something more real and warmly personal than bodily presence, an ineffable and eternal thing. It is everlasting life touching us as something more than a vague, recondite concept. The sound of a great name dies like an echo; the splendor of fame fades into nothing; but the grace of a fine spirit pervades the places through which it has passed, like the haunting loveliness of mignonette.
  • I always begin at the left with the opening word of the sentence and read toward the right and I recommend this method.
  • In an extensive reading of recent books by psychologists, psychoanalysts, psychiatrists, and inspirationalists, I have discovered that they all suffer from one or more of these expression-complexes: italicizing, capitalizing, exclamation-pointing, multiple-interrogating, and itemizing. These are all forms of what the psychos themselves would call, if they faced their condition frankly, Rhetorical-Over-Compensation.
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