Birthday of ever-quotable Elwyn Brooks (E.B., “Andy”) White, who said:
I rise in the morning torn between a desire to improve the world and a desire to enjoy it. This makes it hard to plan the day.
All that I hope to say in books, all that I ever hope to say, is that I love the world.
Always be on the lookout for the presence of wonder.
I would feel more optimistic about a bright future for man if he spent less time proving he can outwit Nature and more time tasting her sweetness and respecting her seniority.
A writer who waits for ideal conditions under which to work will die without putting a word to paper.
Never hurry, never worry.
Be obscure clearly.
Semicolons only prove that the author has been to college.
A writer’s style reveals something of his spirit, his capacities, his bias. It is the Self escaping into the open.
I admire anybody who has the guts to write anything at all.
And he told George Plimpton, in Paris Review
I think some writers have lost their sense of proportion, their sense of humor, and their sense of appreciation. I am often mad, but I would hate to be nothing but mad: and I think I would lose what little value I may have as a writer if I were to refuse, as a matter of principle, to accept the warming rays of the sun, and to report them, whenever, and if ever, they happen to strike me.
Advice, and rays, accepted.
Here is New York
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