“Trust me, Wilbur. People are very gullible. They’ll believe anything they see in print.”

Always be on the lookout for the presence of wonder.

In a free country it is the duty of writers to pay no attention to duty.

A candidate could easily commit political suicide if he were to come up with an unconventional thought during a presidential tour.

Life’s meaning has always eluded me and I guess always will. But I love it just the same.

In every queen there’s a touch of floozy.

Wilbur never forgot Charlotte. Although he loved her children and grandchildren dearly, none of the new spiders ever quite took her place in his heart. She was in a class by herself. It is not often that someone comes along who is a true friend and a good writer. Charlotte was both.

Old age is a special problem for me because I’ve never been able to shed the mental image I have of myself – a lad of about 19.

Good deeds never go unpunished.

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

“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.

Life is like writing with a pen. You can cross out your past but you can’t erase it.

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?

You’re terrific as far as I am concerned.

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.

Only a person who is congenially self-centered has the effrontery and the stamina to write essays

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.