Why did you do all this for me?’ he asked. ‘I don’t deserve it. I’ve never done anything for you.’ ‘You have been my friend,’ replied Charlotte. ‘That in itself is a tremendous thing.
E. B. WHITEAll that I hope to say in books, all that I ever hope to say, is that I love the world.
More E. B. White Quotes
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A writer who waits for ideal conditions under which to work will die without putting a word to paper.
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I am often mad, but I would hate to be nothing but mad: and I think I would lose what little value I may have as a writer if I were to refuse, as a matter of principle, to accept the warming rays of the sun, and to report them, whenever, and if ever, they
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Geese are friends to no one, they bad mouth everybody and everything. But they are companionable once you get used to their ingratitude and false accusations.
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And then, just as Wilbur was settling down for his morning nap, he heard again the thin voice that had addressed him the night before. “Salutations!” said the voice. Wilbur jumped to his feet. “Salu-what?” he cried. “Salutations!” repeated the voice.
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There is nothing more likely to start disagreement among people or countries than an agreement.
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Genius is more often found in a cracked pot than in a whole 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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Creation is in part merely the business of forgoing the great and small distractions.
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A candidate could easily commit political suicide if he were to come up with an unconventional thought during a presidential tour.
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When you say something, make sure you have said it. The chances of your having said it are only fair.
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It can destroy an individual, or it can fulfill him, depending a good deal on luck.
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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.
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Luck is not something you can mention in the presence of self-made men.
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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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Life is like writing with a pen. You can cross out your past but you can’t erase it.
E. B. WHITE