Elwyn Brooks White

[E. B. White] ((1899-1985) / Mount Vernon, New York, United States)

Elwyn Brooks White Quotes

  • ''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.''
    E.B. (Elwyn Brooks) White (1899-1985), U.S. author, editor. repr. in Writings from the New Yorker 1927-1976, ed. Rebecca M. Dale (1991). "Dismal?" New Yorker (Feb. 25, 1950).
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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. (Elwyn Brooks) White (1899-1985), U.S. author, editor. "Fall," One Man's Meat (1944).
  • ''Commuters give the city its tidal restlessness; natives give it solidity and continuity; but the settlers give it passion.''
    E.B. (Elwyn Brooks) White (1899-1985), U.S. author, editor. "Here Is New York," Holiday (Indianapolis, April 1949).
  • ''Deathlessness should be arrived at in a ... haphazard fashion. Loving fame as much as any man, we shall carve our initials in the shell of a tortoise and turn him loose in a peat bog.''
    E.B. (Elwyn Brooks) White (1899-1985), U.S. author, editor. repr. in Writings from the New Yorker 1927-1976, ed. Rebecca M. Dale (1991). "Immortality," New Yorker (March 28, 1936).
  • ''Commas in The New Yorker fall with the precision of knives in a circus act, outlining the victim.''
    E.B. (Elwyn Brooks) White (1899-1985), U.S. author, editor. Interview in Writers at Work, Eighth Series, ed. George Plimpton (1988).
  • ''Shocking writing is like murder: the questions the jury must decide are the questions of motive and intent.''
    E.B. (Elwyn Brooks) White (1899-1985), U.S. author, editor. Interview in Writers at Work, Eighth Series (1988).
  • ''A writer is like a bean plant—he has his little day, and then he gets stringy.''
    E.B. (Elwyn Brooks) White (1899-1985), U.S. author, editor. Letters of E.B. White, letter to Harold Ross, September 16, 1938, Harper (1976).

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