I am often mad, but I would hate to be nothing but mad: and I think I would lose what little value I may have as a writer if I were to refuse, as a matter of principle, to accept the warming rays of the sun, and to report them, whenever, and if ever, they
E. B. WHITESalutations; it’s just my fancy way of saying hello or good morning
More E. B. White Quotes
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Children are game for anything. I throw them hard words, and they backhand them over the net. They love words that give them a hard time, provided they are in a context that absorbs their attention.
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Fern was up at daylight, trying to rid the world of injustice. As a result, she now has a pig. A small one to be sure, but nevertheless a pig. It just shows what can happen if a person gets out of bed promptly.
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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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All writing is communication; creative writing is communication through revelation-it is the Self-escaping into the open.
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I see nothing in space as promising as the view from a Ferris wheel.
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Stuart rose from the ditch, climbed into his car, and started up the road that led toward the north…As he peeked ahead into the great land that stretched before him, the way seemed long. But the sky was bright, and he somehow felt he was headed in the right direction.
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To achieve style, begin by affecting none.
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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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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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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 poem compresses much in a small space and adds music, thus heightening its meaning.
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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?
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I don’t know which is more discouraging, literature or chickens.
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I am still encouraged to go on. I wouldn’t know where else to go.
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Loneliness is a strange gift.
E. B. WHITE






