I know many writers who first dictate passages, then polish what
I know many writers who first dictate passages, then polish what they have dictated. I speak, then I polish - occasionally I do windows.
The words of Ed Koch, mayor, wit, and man of the people, shimmer with both humor and humility: “I know many writers who first dictate passages, then polish what they have dictated. I speak, then I polish—occasionally I do windows.” In this saying, he reveals the rhythm of expression: words spoken first in raw form, then refined through care and effort. Yet he cloaks this truth in laughter, reminding us that the labor of speech, like the labor of life, must be balanced with a touch of levity.
The ancients too understood this art. Cicero, the great Roman orator, often spoke extemporaneously, pouring forth thought with fire, and only later refining his speeches into polished texts. The first act is the speaking, the rush of inspiration; the second is the polishing, the careful shaping of thought into clarity. Koch stands in this lineage, yet he winks at the grandeur of it, jesting that he not only polishes words but sometimes windows—as though to remind us that even those who speak for the people must remain grounded in the ordinary.
His humor also reveals the heart of public service. Unlike the solitary writer, the politician must speak often, in meetings, on the streets, before crowds. Rarely is there time for perfect polish. Thus Koch admits: he spoke first, trusted his instincts, and refined his words when time allowed. Yet by adding the phrase “I do windows,” he disarms pomp with humility, showing that even the work of leadership is not above the common labor of cleaning, of serving, of being human.
Consider the story of Abraham Lincoln, who drafted the Gettysburg Address on scraps of paper, refining his words through revision until they gleamed with immortal clarity. He too spoke first, then polished. Koch’s jest belongs to the same tradition, though cast in humor rather than solemnity: the recognition that all true expression is born rough and must be honed through discipline and humility.
Let the generations remember: the art of speech and writing is both inspiration and labor. Words may come like a storm, but they must be polished like stone to endure. And in this, Koch’s jest carries wisdom—that even the highest work is not divorced from the simplest chores. To polish words, to polish windows—it is all service, all labor, all the work of shaping clarity from the dust of the world.
HVLe Thi Ha Vy
This quote from Ed Koch feels like a blend of honesty and wit. The idea of speaking first and polishing later is an accurate description of how many writers work. But what stands out to me is his line about 'doing windows'—is this a metaphor for those moments in writing that feel like busy work? Or does it imply that we sometimes have to 'clean' our thoughts and ideas before they truly come together?
TTTran Tien Tam
Ed Koch seems to point out that writing, like any craft, involves multiple steps—drafting and refining. But his mention of 'doing windows' adds a bit of humor, perhaps suggesting that some parts of writing feel like mundane tasks. Does anyone else feel that way? I think the quote speaks to the broader writing experience, where moments of creativity are often followed by hard work to perfect the final piece. How does everyone else handle the polishing stage?
HHoa
Koch’s quote is quite relatable for anyone who writes. The idea of speaking first, then polishing, reflects how many of us have to refine our initial thoughts. But when he adds, 'occasionally I do windows,' it makes me wonder: is he admitting that writing is often a process of cleaning up, much like doing chores? Do we all have to find ways to make the less glamorous parts of writing more enjoyable?
QTphan quynh thi
Ed Koch's quote is a humorous take on the writing process, especially how different writers have their own methods. It seems like he’s highlighting how sometimes the initial raw creation can be messy and requires refinement. But what’s interesting is his metaphor about 'doing windows'—does that imply that writing is sometimes like a tedious chore? Is it possible to view polishing a piece as something less mechanical and more creative?