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A good farmer is nothing more nor less than a handy man with a sense of humus.

E. B. White

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.
E. B. WHITE

Estimate Harder Keep Nothing Of Time Track
The city that is devoured by locusts each day and spat out each night. Third, there is the New York of the person who was born somewhere else and came to New York in quest of something.
E. B. WHITE

City Country Day Each Locust Person Something Somewhere
Writing is both mask and unveiling.
E. B. WHITE

Both Maskm Unveil Write
No one should come to New York to live unless he is willing to be lucky.
E. B. WHITE

Come Country Live Lucky One Should Unless
It is not often that someone comes along who is a true friend and a good writer.
E. B. WHITE

Along Come Fiend Good Someone True Writer
There is hardly a waiting room in the east that has not served as my cockpit, whether I was waiting to board a train or to see a dentist. And I am usually still trimming sheets when the train starts or drill begins to whine.
E. B. WHITE

Begin Cockpit Start Train Trim Usually Wait
A writer who waits for ideal conditions under which to work will die without putting a word to paper.
E. B. WHITE

Condition Ideal Paper Put Wait Without Word Work Writer
I arise in the morning torn between a desire to improve the world and a desire to enjoy the world. This makes it hard to plan the day.
E. B. WHITE

Arise Between Desire Enjoy Morning World
I am reminded of the advice of my neighbor. “Never worry about your heart till it stops beating.
E. B. WHITE

About Advice Beat Neighbour Remind Stop Till Worry
It is quite possible that an animal has spoken to me and that I didn’t catch the remark because I wasn’t paying attention.
E. B. WHITE

Animal Attention Catch Play Possible Quite Remark Spoken
You have been my friend. That in itself is a tremendous thing. I wove my webs for you because I liked you. After all, what’s a life, anyway?
E. B. WHITE

Friend Itself Like Tremendous Web Wove
Early summer days are a jubilee time for birds. In the fields, around the house, in the barn, in the woods, in the swamp – everywhere love and songs and nests and eggs.
E. B. WHITE

Around Barn Bird Day Early Everywhere Field House Jubilee Summer Swamp Time Wood
Television will enormously enlarge the eye’s range, and, like radio, will advertise the Elsewhere. Together with the tabs, the mags, and the movies, it will insist that we forget the primary and the near in favor of the secondary and the remote.
E. B. WHITE

Advertise Else Enlarge Enormously Eye Radio Range Television Writer
Old age is a special problem for me because I’ve never been able to shed the mental image I have of myself – a lad of about 19.
E. B. WHITE

Age Been Image Mental Myself never Nineteen Old Problem Shed Special
“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.
E. B. WHITE

Fancy Good Morning Salutation Scream What
The so-called science of poll-taking is not a science at all but mere necromancy. People are unpredictable by nature, and although you can take a nation’s pulse, you can’t be sure that the nation hasn’t just run up a flight of stairs.
E. B. WHITE

Called Mere Necromancy Poll Science Talking

A good farmer is nothing more nor less than a handy man with a sense of humus.

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A good farmer is nothing more nor less than a handy man with a sense of humus.

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