Mother: It’s broccoli, dear. — Child: I say it’s spinach, and I say the hell with it.
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.
More E. B. White Quotes
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A right is a responsibility in reverse.
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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.
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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.
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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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Hang on to your hat. Hang on to your hope. And wind the clock, for tomorrow is another day.
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The main thing I try to do is write as clearly as I can. I rewrite a good deal to make it clear.
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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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A poet dares be just so clear and no clearer… He unzips the veil from beauty, but does not remove it. A poet utterly clear is a trifle glaring.
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“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.
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A poem compresses much in a small space and adds music, thus heightening its meaning.
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Before the seed there comes the thought of bloom.
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Writing is one way to go about thinking, and the practice and habit of writing not only drain the mind but supply it, too.
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Habitually creative people are prepared to be lucky.
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I am still encouraged to go on. I wouldn’t know where else to go.
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Good deeds never go unpunished.
E. B. WHITE