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.
E. B. WHITEHang on to your hat. Hang on to your hope. And wind the clock, for tomorrow is another day.
More E. B. White Quotes
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In every queen there’s a touch of floozy.
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Semi-colons only prove that the author has been to college.
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A writer’s style reveals something of his spirit, his habits, his capacites, his bias…it is the Self escaping into the open.
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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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Make the work interesting and the discipline will take care of itself.
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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.
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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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From morning till night, sounds drift from the kitchen, most of them familiar and comforting. . . . On days when warmth is the most important need of the human heart, the kitchen is the place you can find it; it dries the wet sock, it cools the hot little brain.
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I am reminded of the advice of my neighbor. “Never worry about your heart till it stops beating.
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There is nothing more likely to start disagreement among people or countries than an agreement.
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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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We should all do what, in the long run, gives us joy, even if it is only picking grapes or sorting the laundry.
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Writing is both mask and unveiling.
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No one should come to New York to live unless he is willing to be lucky.
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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. WHITE