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. WHITEWe’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.
More E. B. White Quotes
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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.
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A poem compresses much in a small space and adds music, thus heightening its meaning.
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Luck is not something you can mention in the presence of self-made men.
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The best writing is rewriting.
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In a man’s middle years there is scarcely a part of the body he would hesitate to turn over to the proper authorities.
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Use the smallest word that does the job.
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The whole duty of a writer is to please and satisfy himself, and the true writer always plays to an audience of one.
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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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Democracy is the recurrent suspicion that more than half of the people are right more than half of the time.
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Make the work interesting and the discipline will take care of itself.
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“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.
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A right is a responsibility in reverse.
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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.
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Hang on to your hat. Hang on to your hope. And wind the clock, for tomorrow is another day.
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Creation is in part merely the business of forgoing the great and small distractions.
E. B. WHITE






