Stuart rose from the ditch, climbed into his car, and started up the road that led toward the north…As he peeked ahead into the great land that stretched before him, the way seemed long. But the sky was bright, and he somehow felt he was headed in the right direction.
E. B. WHITECreation is in part merely the business of forgoing the great and small distractions.
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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No one should come to New York to live unless he is willing to be lucky.
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In a free country it is the duty of writers to pay no attention to duty.
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I am still encouraged to go on. I wouldn’t know where else to go.
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Books hold most of the secrets of the world, most of the thoughts that men and women have had. And when you are reading a book, you and the author are alone together-just the two of you.
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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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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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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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There is nothing more likely to start disagreement among people or countries than an agreement.
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To achieve style, begin by affecting none.
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There is nothing harder to estimate than a writer’s time, nothing harder to keep track of. There are moments—moments of sustained creation—when his time is fairly valuable; and there are hours and hours when a writer’s time isn’t worth the paper he is not writing anything on.
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Before the seed there comes the thought of bloom.
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A right is a responsibility in reverse.
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A despot doesn’t fear eloquent writers preaching freedom- he fears a drunken poet who may crack a joke that will take hold.
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Life’s meaning has always eluded me and I guess always will. But I love it just the same.
E. B. WHITE