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A writer who waits for ideal conditions under which to work will die without putting a word to paper.

E. B. White

I would feel more optimistic about a bright future for man if he spent less time proving that he can outwit Nature and more time tasting her sweetness and respecting her seniority.
E. B. WHITE

Bright Feel Future Less Man More Nature Optimistic Outwit Prove Spent Time
Writing is an act of faith, not a trick of grammar.
E. B. WHITE

Act Film Grammar Trick Write
Hang on to your hat. Hang on to your hope. And wind the clock, for tomorrow is another day.
E. B. WHITE

Another Day Hang Hat Hope Tomorrow Wind
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.
E. B. WHITE

Kitchen Living Morning Room Sunday Woodshed
Before the seed there comes the thought of bloom.
E. B. WHITE

Before Bloom Come Seed Through
No one can write decently who is distrustful of the reader’s intelligence or whose attitude is patronizing.
E. B. WHITE

Attitude Decently Distrustful Intelligence Patronizing Reader Write
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.
E. B. WHITE

Begin Cockpit Start Train Trim Usually Wait
I see nothing in space as promising as the view from a Ferris wheel.
E. B. WHITE

Ferris Nothing Promising Space View Wheel
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
The whole problem is to establish communication with ones self.
E. B. WHITE

Communication Establish One Problem Self Whole
Luck is not something you can mention in the presence of self-made men.
E. B. WHITE

Luck Made Men Mention Presence Self Something
“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.
E. B. WHITE

Fancy Good Morning Salutation Scream What
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
There are roughly three New Yorks. There is, first, the New York of the man or woman who was born here, who takes the city for granted and accepts its size and its turbulence as natural and inevitable. Second, there is the New York of the commuter.
E. B. WHITE

Born City Computer Country First Man New Roughly Take Three Woman
Never hurry and never worry!
E. B. WHITE

Hurry never Worry
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.
E. B. WHITE

Both Challenge Determine Get Good Time Heel Morning One World

A writer who waits for ideal conditions under which to work will die without putting a word to paper.

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A writer who waits for ideal conditions under which to work will die without putting a word to paper.

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