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. 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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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.
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Writing is one way to go about thinking, and the practice and habit of writing not only drain the mind but supply it, too.
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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.
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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.
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I believe in dreams. People should have faith in the songs poets sing.
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Prejudice is a great time saver. You can form opinions without having to get the facts.
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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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We should all do what, in the long run, gives us joy, even if it is only picking grapes or sorting the laundry.
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I am reminded of the advice of my neighbor. “Never worry about your heart till it stops beating.
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Creation is in part merely the business of forgoing the great and small distractions.
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Always be on the lookout for the presence of wonder.
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It is quite possible that an animal has spoken to me and that I didn’t catch the remark because I wasn’t paying attention.
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Only a person who is congenially self-centered has the effrontery and the stamina to write essays
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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