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Writing is hard work and bad for the health.

E. B. White

The world is full of people who have never, since childhood, met an open doorway with an open mind.
E. B. WHITE

Childhood Doorway Full Met Mind Open People Since World
Why did you do all this for me?’ he asked. ‘I don’t deserve it. I’ve never done anything for you.’ ‘You have been my friend,’ replied Charlotte. ‘That in itself is a tremendous thing.
E. B. WHITE

All Anything Ask Been Deserve Done Friend never You
The city that is devoured by locusts each day and spat out each night. Third, there is the New York of the person who was born somewhere else and came to New York in quest of something.
E. B. WHITE

City Country Day Each Locust Person Something Somewhere
In a man’s middle years there is scarcely a part of the body he would hesitate to turn over to the proper authorities.
E. B. WHITE

Authority Body Hesitate Man Middle Over Part Proper Scarcely
The whole duty of a writer is to please and satisfy himself, and the true writer always plays to an audience of one.
E. B. WHITE

Audience Duty Himself True One Play Pleasure Satisfy Whole Writer
I’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. WHITE

Blood Brutal Country Fierce Friend Friendship Gamble Now People Person Right Thirsty
We’re born, we live a little while, we die. A spider’s life can’t help being something of a mess, with all this trapping and eating flies. By helping you, perhaps I was trying to lift up my life a trifle. Heaven knows anyone’s life can stand a little of that.
E. B. WHITE

Anyone Born Eating Heaven Help Little Perhaps Something
The essayist is a self-liberated man, sustained by the childish belief that everything he thinks about, everything that happens to him, is of general interest.
E. B. WHITE

Childish Essayist Everything Happen Liberate Self Sustain Think
English usage is sometimes more than mere taste, judgment and education – sometimes it’s sheer luck, like getting across the street.
E. B. WHITE

English Mere More Sometimes Taste Usage
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
A poet’s pleasure is to withhold a little of his meaning, to intensify by mystification. He unzips the veil from beauty, but does not remove it.
E. B. WHITE

Intensify Meaning Mystification Pleasure Poet Withhold
I see nothing in space as promising as the view from a Ferris wheel.
E. B. WHITE

Ferris Nothing Promising Space View Wheel
Good deeds never go unpunished.
E. B. WHITE

Ded Go Good never Unpunished
We should all do what, in the long run, gives us joy, even if it is only picking grapes or sorting the laundry.
E. B. WHITE

Even Give Grape Laundry Long Only Pick Run Sort Us
Well,” said Stuart, “a misspelled word is an abomination in the sight of everyone.
E. B. WHITE

Abomination Country Everyone Misspeklled People Person Sight Well
I believe in dreams. People should have faith in the songs poets sing.
E. B. WHITE

Believe Dream Faith People Poet Sing Song

Writing is hard work and bad for the health.

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Writing is hard work and bad for the health.

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