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Everything in life is somewhere else, and you get there in a car.

E. B. White

The rat had no morals, no conscience, no scruples, no consideration, no decency, no milk of rodent kindness, no compunctions, no higher feeling, no friendliness, no anything
E. B. WHITE

Compunction Conscience Consideration Decency Kindness Milk Moral Rat Rodent Scruples
Nationalism has two fatal charms for its devotees: It presupposes local self-sufficiency, which is a pleasant and desirable condition, and it suggests, very subtly, a certain personal superiority by reason of one’s belonging to a place which is definable and familiar, as against a place that is strange, remote.
E. B. WHITE

Charm Condition Desirable Devotees Fatal Local Nationalism Prepossess Self Sufficiency Two
A poem compresses much in a small space and adds music, thus heightening its meaning.
E. B. WHITE

Add Compress Heihhening Mean Much Music Poem Small Space
All that I hope to say in books, all that I ever hope to say, is that I love the world.
E. B. WHITE

All Hope Book Love World
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
People are, if anything, more touchy about being thought silly than they are about being thought unjust.
E. B. WHITE

Anything Being More People Thought Touchy Unjust
There’s no limit to how complicated things can get, on account of one thing always leading to another.
E. B. WHITE

Account Another Complicated Lead Limit Thing
Make the work interesting and the discipline will take care of itself.
E. B. WHITE

Atkem Care Discipline Interest Itself Make
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
Democracy is the recurrent suspicion that more than half of the people are right more than half of the time.
E. B. WHITE

Democracy Half More Person Recruitment Suspicion Time
A poet’s pleasure is to withhold a little of his meaning, to intensify by mystification. He unzips the veil from beauty, but does not remove it.
E. B. WHITE

Intensify Meaning Mystification Pleasure Poet Withhold
Life is like writing with a pen. You can cross out your past but you can’t erase it.
E. B. WHITE

Cros Erase Life Like Pen Put Writing
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
Always be on the lookout for the presence of wonder.
E. B. WHITE

Always Lookout Presence Wonder
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

Addresses Again Before Down Heard Just Morning Night People Settle Voice
I have noticed that most men when they enter a barber shop and must wait their turn, drop into a chair and pick up a magazine. I simply sit down and pick up the thread of my sea wanderings, which began more than fifty years ago and is not quite ended.
E. B. WHITE

Barber Chair Drop Enter Magazine Men Most Notice Pick Shop Wait

Everything in life is somewhere else, and you get there in a car.

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Everything in life is somewhere else, and you get there in a car.

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