Mother: It’s broccoli, dear. — Child: I say it’s spinach, and I say the hell with it.
E. B. WHITEThere 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.
More E. B. White Quotes
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Democracy is itself, a religious faith. For some it comes close to being the only formal religion they have.
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Understanding humor is like dissecting a live frog. It can be done, but the frog tends to die in the process.
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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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Only a person who is congenially self-centered has the effrontery and the stamina to write essays
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Semi-colons only prove that the author has been to college.
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I get up every morning determined to both change the world and to have one hell of a good time. Sometimes, this makes planning the day difficult.
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People are, if anything, more touchy about being thought silly than they are about being thought unjust.
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“What’s miraculous about a spider’s web?” said Mrs. Arable. “I don’t see why you say a web is a miracle–it’s just a web.” “Ever try to spin one?” asked Mr. Dorian.
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There is nothing more likely to start disagreement among people or countries than an agreement.
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A really companionable and indispensable dog is an accident of nature. You can’t get it by breeding for it, and you can’t buy it with money. It just happens along.
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A right is a responsibility in reverse.
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Most people think of peace as a state of Nothing Bad Happening, or Nothing Much Happening. Yet if peace is to overtake us and make us the gift of serenity and well-being, it will have to be the state of Something Good Happening.
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Books hold most of the secrets of the world, most of the thoughts that men and women have had. And when you are reading a book, you and the author are alone together-just the two of you.
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It is Sunday, mid-morning-Sunday in the living room, Sunday in the kitchen, Sunday in the woodshed, Sunday down the road in the village: I hear the bells, calling me to share God’s grace.
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Democracy is the recurrent suspicion that more than half of the people are right more than half of the time.
E. B. WHITE






