Hang on to your hat. Hang on to your hope. And wind the clock, for tomorrow is another day.
E. B. WHITEHang on to your hat. Hang on to your hope. And wind the clock, for tomorrow is another day.
E. B. WHITEThere 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. WHITECreation is in part merely the business of forgoing the great and small distractions.
E. B. WHITETrust me, Wilbur. People are very gullible. They’ll believe anything they see in print.
E. B. WHITEI see nothing in space as promising as the view from a Ferris wheel.
E. B. WHITEBefore the seed there comes the thought of bloom.
E. B. WHITEExtreme cold when it first arrives seems to generate cheerfulness and sociability. For a few hours all life’s dubious problems are dropped in favor of the clear and congenial task of keeping alive.
E. B. WHITEWell,” said Stuart, “a misspelled word is an abomination in the sight of everyone.
E. B. WHITEI 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. WHITENo one can write decently who is distrustful of the reader’s intelligence or whose attitude is patronizing.
E. B. WHITEI admire anybody who has the guts to write anything at all.
E. B. WHITEUnderstanding humor is like dissecting a live frog. It can be done, but the frog tends to die in the process.
E. B. WHITELuck is not something you can mention in the presence of self-made men.
E. B. WHITEI’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?
E. B. WHITEThe so-called science of poll-taking is not a science at all but mere necromancy. People are unpredictable by nature, and although you can take a nation’s pulse, you can’t be sure that the nation hasn’t just run up a flight of stairs.
E. B. WHITEEarly summer days are a jubilee time for birds. In the fields, around the house, in the barn, in the woods, in the swamp – everywhere love and songs and nests and eggs.
E. B. WHITE