In a man’s middle years there is scarcely a part of the body he would hesitate to turn over to the proper authorities.
E. B. WHITEI have one share in corporate Earth, and I am nervous about the management.
More E. B. White Quotes
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“What are they, and where are you?” screamed Wilbur. “Please, please, tell me where you are. And what are salutations?” “Salutations are greetings,” said the voice. “When I say ‘salutations,’ it’s just my fancy way of saying hello or good morning.
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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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A poet dares be just so clear and no clearer… He unzips the veil from beauty, but does not remove it. A poet utterly clear is a trifle glaring.
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Books are good company, in sad times and happy times, for books are people– people who have managed to stay alive by hiding between the covers of a book.
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I would feel more optimistic about a bright future for man if he spent less time proving that he can outwit Nature and more time tasting her sweetness and respecting her seniority.
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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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There’s no limit to how complicated things can get, on account of one thing always leading to another.
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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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If a man is to be obsessed by something, I suppose a boat is as good as anything, perhaps a bit better than most.
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Extreme cold when it first arrives seems to generate cheerfulness and sociability. For a few hours all life’s dubious problems are dropped in favor of the clear and congenial task of keeping alive.
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You can dissect a joke just as you can a frog. But it tends to die on you.
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Everything in life is somewhere else, and you get there in a car.
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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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An editor is a person who knows more about writing than writers do but who has escaped the terrible desire to write.
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A poem compresses much in a small space and adds music, thus heightening its meaning.
E. B. WHITE