I am always humbled by the infite ingenuity of the Lord, who can make a red barn cast a blue shadow.
E. B. WHITEI am reminded of the advice of my neighbor. “Never worry about your heart till it stops beating.
More E. B. White Quotes
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Children are game for anything. I throw them hard words, and they backhand them over the net. They love words that give them a hard time, provided they are in a context that absorbs their attention.
E. B. WHITE -
Every morning I awake torn between a desire to save the world and an inclination to savor it. This makes it hard to plan the day. But if we forget to savor the world, what possible reason do we have for saving it? In a way, the savoring must come first.
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Oh, I never look under the hood.
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The world is full of people who have never, since childhood, met an open doorway with an open mind.
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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.
E. B. WHITE -
I admire anybody who has the guts to write anything at all.
E. B. WHITE -
English usage is sometimes more than mere taste, judgment and education – sometimes it’s sheer luck, like getting across the street.
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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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You’re terrific as far as I am concerned.
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One of the most time-consuming things is to have an enemy.
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Trust me, Wilbur. People are very gullible. They’ll believe anything they see in print.
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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 -
In every queen there’s a touch of floozy.
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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.
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A writer’s style reveals something of his spirit, his habits, his capacites, his bias…it is the Self escaping into the open.
E. B. WHITE