Writing is hard work and bad for the health.
E. B. WHITEWe should all do what, in the long run, gives us joy, even if it is only picking grapes or sorting the laundry.
More E. B. White Quotes
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The so-called science of poll-taking is not a science at all but mere necromancy. People are unpredictable by nature, and although you can take a nation’s pulse, you can’t be sure that the nation hasn’t just run up a flight of stairs.
E. B. WHITE -
The main thing I try to do is write as clearly as I can. I rewrite a good deal to make it clear.
E. B. WHITE -
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. WHITE -
Early summer days are a jubilee time for birds. In the fields, around the house, in the barn, in the woods, in the swamp – everywhere love and songs and nests and eggs.
E. B. WHITE -
You have been my friend. That in itself is a tremendous thing. I wove my webs for you because I liked you. After all, what’s a life, anyway?
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Always be on the lookout for the presence of wonder.
E. B. WHITE -
A poem compresses much in a small space and adds music, thus heightening its meaning.
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Democracy is itself, a religious faith. For some it comes close to being the only formal religion they have.
E. B. WHITE -
One of the most time-consuming things is to have an enemy.
E. B. WHITE -
I admire anybody who has the guts to write anything at all.
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Life is like writing with a pen. You can cross out your past but you can’t erase it.
E. B. WHITE -
Old age is a special problem for me because I’ve never been able to shed the mental image I have of myself – a lad of about 19.
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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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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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Nationalism has two fatal charms for its devotees: It presupposes local self-sufficiency, which is a pleasant and desirable condition, and it suggests, very subtly, a certain personal superiority by reason of one’s belonging to a place which is definable and familiar, as against a place that is strange, remote.
E. B. WHITE