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. WHITEThe world is full of people who have never, since childhood, met an open doorway with an open mind.
More E. B. White Quotes
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People are, if anything, more touchy about being thought silly than they are about being thought unjust.
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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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Children are game for anything. I throw them hard words, and they backhand them over the net. They love words that give them a hard time, provided they are in a context that absorbs their attention.
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Books 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.
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A right is a responsibility in reverse.
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There’s no limit to how complicated things can get, on account of one thing always leading to another.
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In every queen there’s a touch of floozy.
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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.
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It can destroy an individual, or it can fulfill him, depending a good deal on luck.
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It is not often that someone comes along who is a true friend and a good writer.
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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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I believe in dreams. People should have faith in the songs poets sing.
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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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There 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.
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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.
E. B. WHITE