“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.
E. B. WHITEBooks are good company, in sad times and happy times, for books are people– people who have managed to stay alive by hiding between the covers of a book.
More E. B. White Quotes
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I believe in dreams. People should have faith in the songs poets sing.
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Television will enormously enlarge the eye’s range, and, like radio, will advertise the Elsewhere. Together with the tabs, the mags, and the movies, it will insist that we forget the primary and the near in favor of the secondary and the remote.
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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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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.
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A writer should concern himself with whatever absorbs his fancy, stirs his heart, and unlimbers his typewriter. … A writer has the duty to be good, not lousy: true, not false; lively, not dull; accurate, not full of error. He should tend to lift people up, not lower them down.
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A candidate could easily commit political suicide if he were to come up with an unconventional thought during a presidential tour.
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I have noticed that most men when they enter a barber shop and must wait their turn, drop into a chair and pick up a magazine. I simply sit down and pick up the thread of my sea wanderings, which began more than fifty years ago and is not quite ended.
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Luck is not something you can mention in the presence of self-made men.
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Reading is the work of the alert mind, is demanding, and under ideal conditions produces finally a sort of ecstasy.
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To achieve style, begin by affecting none.
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I am always humbled by the infite ingenuity of the Lord, who can make a red barn cast a blue shadow.
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I see nothing in space as promising as the view from a Ferris wheel.
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A good farmer is nothing more nor less than a handy man with a sense of humus.
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Extreme 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.
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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.
E. B. WHITE