A poem compresses much in a small space and adds music, thus heightening its meaning.
E. B. WHITEI get up every morning determined to both change the world and to have one hell of a good time. Sometimes, this makes planning the day difficult.
More E. B. White Quotes
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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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Luck is not something you can mention in the presence of self-made men.
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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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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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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.
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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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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 -
Always be on the lookout for the presence of wonder.
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To achieve style, begin by affecting none.
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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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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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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 are roughly three New Yorks. There is, first, the New York of the man or woman who was born here, who takes the city for granted and accepts its size and its turbulence as natural and inevitable. Second, there is the New York of the commuter.
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Democracy is the recurrent suspicion that more than half of the people are right more than half of the time.
E. B. WHITE