Geese are friends to no one, they bad mouth everybody and everything. But they are companionable once you get used to their ingratitude and false accusations.
E. B. WHITE
E. B. WHITE
E. B. White on companionable
E. B. White121 quotes“Geese are friends to no one, they bad mouth everybody and everything. But they are companionable once you get used to their ingratitude and false accusations.”
More from E. B. White
Life’s meaning has always eluded me and I guess always will. But I love it just the same.
E. B. WhiteE. B. White In every queen there’s a touch of floozy.
E. B. WhiteE. B. White 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.
E. B. WhiteE. B. White 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.
E. B. WhiteE. B. White Good deeds never go unpunished.
E. B. WhiteE. B. White 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
E. B. WhiteE. B. White “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.
E. B. WhiteE. B. White Life is like writing with a pen. You can cross out your past but you can’t erase it.
E. B. WhiteE. B. White 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?
E. B. WhiteE. B. White You’re terrific as far as I am concerned.
E. B. WhiteE. B. White 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.
E. B. WhiteE. B. White Only a person who is congenially self-centered has the effrontery and the stamina to write essays
E. B. WhiteE. B. White 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. WhiteE. B. White Habitually creative people are prepared to be lucky.
E. B. WhiteE. B. White Salutations; it’s just my fancy way of saying hello or good morning
E. B. WhiteE. B. White 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. WhiteE. B. White
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