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. WHITEEvery morning I awake torn between a desire to save the world and an inclination to savor it. This makes it hard to plan the day. But if we forget to savor the world, what possible reason do we have for saving it? In a way, the savoring must come first.
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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If a man is to be obsessed by something, I suppose a boat is as good as anything, perhaps a bit better than most.
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I’ve got a new friend, all right. But what a gamble friendship is! Charlotte is fierce, brutal, scheming, bloodthirsty-everything I don’t like. How can I learn to like her, even though she is pretty and, of course, clever?
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Nauseous. Nauseated. The first means “sickening to contemplate”; the second means “sick at the stomach.” Do not, therefore, say “I feel nauseous,” unless you are sure you have that effect on others.
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Oh, I never look under the hood.
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A poem compresses much in a small space and adds music, thus heightening its meaning.
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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.
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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.
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Be obscure clearly! Be wild of tongue in a way we can understand.
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We’re born, we live a little while, we die. A spider’s life can’t help being something of a mess, with all this trapping and eating flies. By helping you, perhaps I was trying to lift up my life a trifle. Heaven knows anyone’s life can stand a little of that.
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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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Well,” said Stuart, “a misspelled word is an abomination in the sight of everyone.
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In a free country it is the duty of writers to pay no attention to duty.
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There’s no limit to how complicated things can get, on account of one thing always leading to another.
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Salutations; it’s just my fancy way of saying hello or good morning
E. B. WHITE