E. B. White Quotes - Page 9

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All poets who, when reading from their own works,m experience a choked feeling, are major. For that matter, all poets who read from their own works are major, whether they choke or not.

E. B. White

Reading, Feelings, Experience

1939 Quo Vadimus?, 'How To Tell A Major Poet From A Minor Poet'.

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I guess I remembered clearest of all the early mornings, when the lake was cool and motionless, remembered how the bedroom smelled of the lumber it was made of and of the wet woods whose scent entered through the screen.

E. B. White

Morning, Lakes, Scent

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Templeton was down there now, rummaging around. When he returned to the barn, he carried in his mouth an advertisement he had torn from a crumpled magazine. How's this?" he asked, showing the ad to Charlotte. It says 'Crunchy.' 'Crunchy' would be a good word to write in your web." Just the wrong idea," replied Charlotte. "Couldn't be worse. We don't want Zuckerman to think Wilbur is crunchy. He might start thinking about crisp, crunchy bacon and tasty ham. That would put ideas into his head. We must advertise Wilbur's noble qualities, not his tastiness.

E. B. White

Writing, Thinking, Ideas

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... with men it's rush, rush, rush, every minute. I'm glad I'm a sedentary spider." "What does sedentary mean?" asked Wilbur. "Means I sit still a good part of the time and don't go wandering all over creation. I know a good thing when I see it, and my web is a good thing. I stay put and wait for what comes. Gives me a chance to think.

E. B. White

Mean, Men, Thinking

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Anyone who writes down to children is simply wasting his time. You have to write up, not down.

E. B. White

Children, Writing

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Thus I, gone forth, as spiders do, In spider’s web a truth discerning, Attach one silken strand to you For my returning.

E. B. White

Spiders, Gone, Discerning

E. B. White (1989). “The Letters of E. B. White”, Perennial

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From three to four, he planned to stand perfectly still and think of what it was like to be alive.

E. B. White

Thinking, Three, Alive

E. B. White (2015). “Charlotte’s Web and other classic animal stories: Charlotte’s Web, The Trumpet of the Swan, Stuart Little”, p.21, HarperCollins UK

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I can only assume that your editorial writer tripped over the First Amendment and thought it was the office cat.

E. B. White

Cat, Office, Firsts

E. B. White (1989). “The Letters of E. B. White”, Perennial

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A single overstatement, wherever or however it occurs, diminishes the whole, and a carefree superlative has the power to destroy, for the reader, the object of the writer's enthusiasm.

E. B. White

Enthusiasm, Carefree, Reader

William Strunk Jr., E.B. White (1962). “the Elements of Style”

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Our vegetable garden is coming along well, with radishes and beans up, and we are less worried about revolution that we used to be.

E. B. White

Garden, Vegetables, Revolution

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It is at a fair that man can be drunk forever on liquor, love, or fights; at a fair that your front pocket can be picked by a trotting horse looking for sugar, and your hind pocket by a thief looking for his fortune.

E. B. White

Love, Horse, Fighting

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A writer is like a bean plant - he has his little day, and then gets stringy.

E. B. White

Writing, Littles, Comedy

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A man is not expected to love his country, lest he make an ass of himself. Yet our country, seen through the mists of smog, is curiously lovable, in somewhat the way an individual who has got himself into an unconscionable scrape seems lovable - or at least deserving of support.

E. B. White

Love, Country, Men

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In middle life, the human back is spoiling for a technical knockout and will use the flimsiest excuse, even a sneeze, to fall apart.

E. B. White

Fall, Age, Use

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A poet dares to be just so clear and no clearer; he approaches lucid ground warily, like a mariner who is determined not to scrape his bottom on anything solid. 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. A poet utterly clear is a trifle glaring.

E. B. White

Poetry, Doe, Veils

1942 One Man's Meat, 'Poetr y'.

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The mind travels faster than the pen; consequently, writing becomes a question of learning to make occasional wing shots, bringing down the bird of thought as it flashes by. A writer is a gunner, sometimes waiting in the blind for something to come in, sometimes roaming the countryside hoping to scare something up.

E. B. White

Writing, Wings, Bird

"The Elements of Style" by William Strunk, Jr., E. B. White, (Ch. V), 1972.

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Do you understand how there could be any writing in a spider's web?" "Oh, no," said Dr. Dorian. "I don't understand it. But for that matter I don't understand how a spider learned to spin a web in the first place. When the words appeared, everyone said they were a miracle. But nobody pointed out that the web itself is a miracle." "What's miraculous about a spider's web?" said Mrs. Arable. "I don't see why you say a web is a miracle-it's just a web." "Ever try to spin one?" asked Dr. Dorian.

E. B. White

Writing, Miracle, Trying

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In the nature of things, a person engaged in the flimsy business of expressing himself on paper is dependent on the large general privilege of being heard. Any intimation that this privilege may be revoked throws a writer into panic.

E. B. White

Writing, Paper, May

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To perceive Christmas through its wrappings becomes more difficult with every year.

E. B. White

Christmas, Years, Difficult

E. B. WHITE (1954). “The SECOND TREE from the CORNER”

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Who can confidently say what ignites a certain combination of words, causing them to explode in the mind? Who knows why certain notes in music are capable of stirring the listener deeply, though the same notes slightly rearranged are impotent? These are high mysteries, and this chapter is a mystery story, thinly disguised.

E. B. White

Mind, Stories, Mystery

William Strunk Jr., E.B. White (1962). “the Elements of Style”

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Wilbur didn't want food, he wanted love.

E. B. White

Wanted Love, Want, Wanted

White, E. B. White, Garth Williams (2010). “Charlotte's Web”, Puffin Books

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If I can fool a bug... I can surely fool a man. People are not as smart as bugs.

E. B. White

Smart, Men, People

1952 Charlotte. Charlotte's Web, ch.10.

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The complaint about modern steel furniture, modern glass houses, modern red bars and modern streamlined trains and cars is that all these objets modernize, while adequate and amusing in themselves, tend to make the people who use them look dated. It is an honest criticism. The human race has done nothing much about changing its own appearance to conform to the form and texture of its appurtenances.

E. B. White

Race, Glasses, Car

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After all, what's a life, anyway? We're born, we live a little while, we die.

E. B. White

Death, Littles, Birth

E. B. White (2011). “In the Words of E.B. White: Quotations from America's Most Companionable of Writers”, p.117, Cornell University Press

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When we think of [John F. Kennedy], he is without a hat, standing in the wind and weather. He was impatient of topcoats and hats, preferring to be exposed, and he was young enough and tough enough to enjoy the cold and the wind of those times.... It can be said of him, as of few men in a like position, that he did not fear the weather, and did not trim his sails, but instead challenged the wind itself, to improve its direction and to cause it to blow more softly and more kindly over the world and its people.

E. B. White

Blow, Men, Thinking

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Born: July 11, 1899
Died: October 1, 1985
Occupation: Writer
Cite this Page: Citation

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