Quotes By E. B. White

Commas in The New Yorker fall with the precision of knives in a circus act, outlining the victim.

All we need is a meteorologist who has once been soaked to the skin without ill effect. No one can write knowingly of the weather who walks bent over on wet days.

We should all do what, in the long run, gives us joy, even if it is only picking grapes or sorting the laundry.

The time not to become a father is eighteen years before a war.

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.

Writing is an act of faith, not a trick of grammar.