There is another sort of day which needs celebrating in song — the day of days when spring at last holds up her face to be kissed, deliberate and una… - E.B. White

"You have been my friend," Charlotte replied. "That in itself is a tremendous thing."

Summertime, oh, summertime, pattern of life indelible, the fade-proof lake, the woods unshatterable, the pasture with the sweetfern and the juniper forever and ever . . . the cottages with their innocent and tranquil design, their tiny docks with the flagpole and the American flag floating against the white clouds in the blue sky, the little paths over the roots of the trees leading from camp to camp. This was the American family at play, escaping the city heat.

In a sense, the only genuinely secure person is a healthy man possessed of absolutely nothing; such a man stands aloof and safe — there is no way either to reduce his fortune or to debase his currency.