Homer Atkins Quotes in The Ugly American
[Atkins’s] hands were laced with big, liverish freckles. His fingernails were black with grease. His fingers bore the tiny nicks and scars of a lifetime of practical engineering. The palms of his hands were calloused. Homer Atkins was worth three million dollars, every dime of which he had earned by his own efforts; but he was most proud and confident of his ugly strong hands. Atkins knew he could always make a living with them.
“You don’t need dams and roads […] Maybe later, but right now you need to concentrate on first things—largely things that your own people can manufacture and use. I don’t know much about farming or city planning or that kind of thing; but I can tell you that your people need other things besides military roads. You ever hear of a food shortage being solved by people building a military highway designed to carry tanks and trucks?”
Mr. Atkins, […] you may not know it, but a French firm has a concession to handle the production of building materials in this country. If everyone started forming brick and quarry companies, it would ruin our relationship.
“Why don’t you just send off to the States for a lot of hand pumps like they use on those little cars the men run up and down the railroads?” [Emma] asked one day.
“Now, look, dammit, I’ve explained to you before,” Atkins said. It’s got to be something they use out here. It’s no good if I go spending a hundred thousand dollars bringing in something. It has to be something right here, something the natives understand.”
[Atkins and Jeepo’s] arguments, for some reason, caused the Sarkhanese workmen a great deal of pleasure, and it was not until several months had passed that Atkins realized why—they were the only times that the Sarkhanese had ever seen one of their own kind arguing fairly and honestly, with a chance of success, against a white man.
Homer Atkins Quotes in The Ugly American
[Atkins’s] hands were laced with big, liverish freckles. His fingernails were black with grease. His fingers bore the tiny nicks and scars of a lifetime of practical engineering. The palms of his hands were calloused. Homer Atkins was worth three million dollars, every dime of which he had earned by his own efforts; but he was most proud and confident of his ugly strong hands. Atkins knew he could always make a living with them.
“You don’t need dams and roads […] Maybe later, but right now you need to concentrate on first things—largely things that your own people can manufacture and use. I don’t know much about farming or city planning or that kind of thing; but I can tell you that your people need other things besides military roads. You ever hear of a food shortage being solved by people building a military highway designed to carry tanks and trucks?”
Mr. Atkins, […] you may not know it, but a French firm has a concession to handle the production of building materials in this country. If everyone started forming brick and quarry companies, it would ruin our relationship.
“Why don’t you just send off to the States for a lot of hand pumps like they use on those little cars the men run up and down the railroads?” [Emma] asked one day.
“Now, look, dammit, I’ve explained to you before,” Atkins said. It’s got to be something they use out here. It’s no good if I go spending a hundred thousand dollars bringing in something. It has to be something right here, something the natives understand.”
[Atkins and Jeepo’s] arguments, for some reason, caused the Sarkhanese workmen a great deal of pleasure, and it was not until several months had passed that Atkins realized why—they were the only times that the Sarkhanese had ever seen one of their own kind arguing fairly and honestly, with a chance of success, against a white man.
