Writing is an act of faith, not a trick of grammar.
E. B. WHITEDemocracy is the recurrent suspicion that more than half of the people are right more than half of the time.
More E. B. White Quotes
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A poem compresses much in a small space and adds music, thus heightening its meaning.
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Luck is not something you can mention in the presence of self-made men.
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A right is a responsibility in reverse.
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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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Life’s meaning has always eluded me and I guess always will. But I love it just the same.
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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.
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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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A poet dares be just so clear and no clearer… He unzips the veil from beauty, but does not remove it. A poet utterly clear is a trifle glaring.
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The rat had no morals, no conscience, no scruples, no consideration, no decency, no milk of rodent kindness, no compunctions, no higher feeling, no friendliness, no anything
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Everything in life is somewhere else, and you get there in a car.
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Habitually creative people are prepared to be lucky.
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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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Good deeds never go unpunished.
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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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No one can write decently who is distrustful of the reader’s intelligence or whose attitude is patronizing.
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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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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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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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Is there anything in the universe more beautiful and protective than the simple complexity of a spider’s web?
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Safety is all well and good: I prefer freedom.
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Prejudice is a great time saver. You can form opinions without having to get the facts.
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I admire anybody who has the guts to write anything at all.
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I arise in the morning torn between a desire to improve the world and a desire to enjoy the world. This makes it hard to plan the day.
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There is nothing more likely to start disagreement among people or countries than an agreement.
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It can destroy an individual, or it can fulfill him, depending a good deal on luck.
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I would feel more optimistic about a bright future for man if he spent less time proving that he can outwit Nature and more time tasting her sweetness and respecting her seniority.
E. B. WHITE