Make the work interesting and the discipline will take care of itself.
E. B. WHITEIt is not often that someone comes along who is a true friend and a good writer.
More E. B. White Quotes
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“What’s miraculous about a spider’s web?” said Mrs. Arable. “I don’t see why you say a web is a miracle–it’s just a web.” “Ever try to spin one?” asked Mr. Dorian.
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All writing is communication; creative writing is communication through revelation-it is the Self-escaping into the open.
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In every queen there’s a touch of floozy.
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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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English usage is sometimes more than mere taste, judgment and education – sometimes it’s sheer luck, like getting across the street.
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A writer should concern himself with whatever absorbs his fancy, stirs his heart, and unlimbers his typewriter. … A writer has the duty to be good, not lousy: true, not false; lively, not dull; accurate, not full of error. He should tend to lift people up, not lower them down.
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Mother: It’s broccoli, dear. — Child: I say it’s spinach, and I say the hell with it.
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In a free country it is the duty of writers to pay no attention to duty.
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A schoolchild should be taught grammar-for the same reason that a medical student should study anatomy.
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Life is like writing with a pen. You can cross out your past but you can’t erase it.
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Reading is the work of the alert mind, is demanding, and under ideal conditions produces finally a sort of ecstasy.
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Life’s meaning has always eluded me and I guess always will. But I love it just the same.
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Be obscure clearly! Be wild of tongue in a way we can understand.
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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.
E. B. WHITE