Reading is the work of the alert mind, is demanding, and under ideal conditions produces finally a sort of ecstasy.
E. B. WHITEReading is the work of the alert mind, is demanding, and under ideal conditions produces finally a sort of ecstasy.
E. B. WHITEWe should all do what, in the long run, gives us joy, even if it is only picking grapes or sorting the laundry.
E. B. WHITEDemocracy is the recurrent suspicion that more than half of the people are right more than half of the time.
E. B. WHITEYou can dissect a joke just as you can a frog. But it tends to die on you.
E. B. WHITEI see nothing in space as promising as the view from a Ferris wheel.
E. B. WHITEEnglish usage is sometimes more than mere taste, judgment and education – sometimes it’s sheer luck, like getting across the street.
E. B. WHITEIn 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. WHITEWriting is an act of faith, not a trick of grammar.
E. B. WHITEThere are roughly three New Yorks. There is, first, the New York of the man or woman who was born here, who takes the city for granted and accepts its size and its turbulence as natural and inevitable. Second, there is the New York of the commuter.
E. B. WHITEThere’s no limit to how complicated things can get, on account of one thing always leading to another.
E. B. WHITEAnd 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. WHITESemi-colons only prove that the author has been to college.
E. B. WHITEI 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.
E. B. WHITEExtreme 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.
E. B. WHITEA writer’s style reveals something of his spirit, his habits, his capacites, his bias…it is the Self escaping into the open.
E. B. WHITEAll that I hope to say in books, all that I ever hope to say, is that I love the world.
E. B. WHITE