"I'm glad to report that even now, at this late day, a blank sheet of paper holds the greatest excitement there is for me—more promising than a silver cloud, prettier than a little red wagon. It holds all the hope there is, all fears. I can remember, really quite distinctly, looking a sheet of paper square in the eyes when I was seven or eight years old and thinking, 'This is where I belong, this is it."
~ E. B. White, letter to Stanley Hart White January 1947
I met him once, when he brought a pair of his wife's (tiny) shoes into the shoe repair store where I worked in Ellsworth, Maine. I said, E.B. White? I love you! And in an utterly kind way, he said, I love you too. It was obvious that he responded to people with what they brought to him. He wasn't interested in me but he gave me a genuine moment.