Sailors have an expression about the weather: they say the weather is a great bluffer. I guess the same is true of our human society – things can look dark, then a break shows in the clouds, and all is changed.
E. B. WHITEEverything in life is somewhere else, and you get there in a car.
More E. B. White Quotes
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Democracy is itself, a religious faith. For some it comes close to being the only formal religion they have.
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I have one share in corporate Earth, and I am nervous about the management.
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Is there anything in the universe more beautiful and protective than the simple complexity of a spider’s web?
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Every morning I awake torn between a desire to save the world and an inclination to savor it. This makes it hard to plan the day. But if we forget to savor the world, what possible reason do we have for saving it? In a way, the savoring must come first.
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The whole duty of a writer is to please and satisfy himself, and the true writer always plays to an audience of one.
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Fern was up at daylight, trying to rid the world of injustice. As a result, she now has a pig. A small one to be sure, but nevertheless a pig. It just shows what can happen if a person gets out of bed promptly.
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All that I hope to say in books, all that I ever hope to say, is that I love the world.
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Understanding humor is like dissecting a live frog. It can be done, but the frog tends to die in the process.
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Never hurry and never worry!
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Habitually creative people are prepared to be lucky.
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I am reminded of the advice of my neighbor. “Never worry about your heart till it stops beating.
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Wilbur never forgot Charlotte. Although he loved her children and grandchildren dearly, none of the new spiders ever quite took her place in his heart. She was in a class by herself. It is not often that someone comes along who is a true friend and a good writer. Charlotte was both.
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Writing is hard work and bad for the health.
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There is nothing harder to estimate than a writer’s time, nothing harder to keep track of. There are moments—moments of sustained creation—when his time is fairly valuable; and there are hours and hours when a writer’s time isn’t worth the paper he is not writing anything on.
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Reading is the work of the alert mind, is demanding, and under ideal conditions produces finally a sort of ecstasy.
E. B. WHITE