Although many of these essays hail from the first half of the 20th century, I found them surprisingly fresh.

It's truly remarkable how the ideas and perspectives presented in these works have endured the test of time.

Despite being written decades ago, they still manage to resonate with modern readers.

The authors' insights into human nature, society, and various other aspects are as relevant today as they were back then.

It makes me wonder if the fundamental truths about life haven't really changed all that much over the years.

These essays offer a unique window into the past, allowing us to see how people thought and felt during that era.

At the same time, they also provide valuable lessons and food for thought that can help us navigate the challenges of the present.

It's a testament to the power of great writing that these essays can still captivate and inspire readers so many years after they were first published.

I'm grateful to have discovered them and look forward to exploring more of this literary treasure trove.

This is an outstanding compilation of exquisitely written essays penned by one of the remarkable prose stylists.

Even if the specific subject matter of a certain essay might not capture your interest, you will still derive great delight from delving into the words, sentences, and paragraphs crafted by a great writer.

E.B. White had a wide range of interests, and his essays offer reflections on life in New York City, life in Maine, and general commentaries on various matters in between.

My personal favorites in this book are his essay about Thoreau's Walden and the essay that initiated his renowned book with Professor Strunk titled Elements of Style.

All in all, this is an absolute must-read for all those who have a passion for the writing form known as the essay.

Insightful and funny essays by a master craftsman.

I took my time reading these bits of perception that might go unnoticed by us when running through our days.

Some of the essays were politically outdated, yet they still retain pearls of wisdom about human behavior.

The essays about White's dog, Fred, his summertimes at the lake, and sailing his boat were my absolute favorites.

I chuckled throughout the entire book. However, the best part came last in his essay titled, “Mr. Forbush’s Friends”.

This particular essay had a charm and a depth that truly made it stand out. It was filled with interesting anecdotes and observations that kept me engaged from start to finish.

White's writing style is so engaging and accessible that it makes these essays a joy to read.

Even though some of the political references may be a bit dated, the underlying themes and messages about human nature and our relationships with one another are timeless.

I would highly recommend this collection of essays to anyone looking for a thought-provoking and entertaining read.

Prescient, timeless, quotable, beautifully written prose.

It is truly a remarkable piece of work that stands out among the countless writings I have come across.

The author's ability to pen such profound and evocative words is truly a gift.

Each sentence seems to be carefully crafted, as if it were a precious gem.

The prose flows smoothly, captivating the reader from the very first line.

It has the power to transport you to another world, making you feel emotions you never thought possible.

It is the kind of writing that you can read over and over again, and still discover new layers of meaning.

Genuinely, it is some of the best writing I’ve ever read.

It leaves a lasting impression on your mind and heart, and makes you appreciate the beauty and artistry of the written word.

I highly recommend it to anyone who has a love for literature and a thirst for knowledge.

It is a must-read for all those who want to experience the magic of truly great writing.

Here are some of the opening sentences found in this collection of essays.

To come upon an article in the Times called "The Meaning of Brown Eggs" was an unexpected pleasure.

Someone told me the other day that a seagull won't eat a smelt.

I spent several days and nights in mid-September with an ailing pig.

Mosquitoes have arrived with the warm nights, and our bedchamber is their theater under the stars.

I wasn't really prepared for the World's Fair last week, and it certainly wasn't prepared for me.

Waking or sleeping, I dream of boats -- usually of rather small boats under a slight press of sail.

On any person who desires such queer prizes, New York will bestow the gift of loneliness and the gift of privacy.

I see by the new Sears Roebuck catalogue that it is still possible to buy an axle for a 1909 Model T Ford, but I am not deceived.

Do I really need to continue? With opening lines like these, you know you are in good hands. 22 of the 31 essays in this collection appeared originally in The New Yorker. Many of the pieces evoke a very particular time and place. They are all so beautifully written that reading them is a pleasure.

The collection of essays offers a diverse range of opening sentences that immediately capture the reader's attention. Each sentence sets the stage for a unique and engaging story or exploration. From the unexpected discovery of an article about brown eggs to the personal experience with an ailing pig, these openings draw the reader in and make them eager to learn more. The descriptions of the warm nights filled with mosquitoes and the dreams of small boats add a touch of vividness and atmosphere. The essays not only transport the reader to different times and places but also showcase the remarkable writing skills of the authors. Reading this collection is truly a delight, as it offers a wealth of captivating and beautifully crafted pieces.

When reading E.B. WHITE's essays,

I am somehow always able to detect a sense of nostalgia within them.

In these essays, many are centered around the animals that he spent a significant amount of time with.

E.B. WHITE's observations on animals are not only keen but also perspicacious.

In those stories that took place in his barn, his narrative is filled with a magical tone, tinged with a certain calmness and sometimes an idiosyncratic cruelty of simply letting things be.

"The Geese" is one of the masterpieces among them, providing a vivid description of a poignant story that happened to a Geese family.

Anyone who is familiar with or at least has some knowledge about domestic animals may also be saddened by that story, which serves as a reserved reflection of the human world.

This essay will definitely resonate with one part of the heart and will consign that part to the past, never to be retrieved.

It leaves a lasting impression on the reader, making them think deeply about the relationship between humans and animals, as well as the complex emotions that lie within us.

E.B. WHITE's writing style is truly unique, and his essays are a treasure trove of wisdom and insight.

\\n  There is really no way for a man to put his arms around a big house plant and still remain a gentleman.\\n

E.B. White’s name, when paired with Will Strunk’s, has become a symbol of good style. This is truly a great compliment to a writer.

My first acquaintance with this duo occurred during my junior year in high school English class. My teacher, being rather old-fashioned, firmly believed that we should master the use of punctuation. This was quite a surprise as none of her predecessors had even spent a moment on teaching about the semicolon. So, with a sense of bewilderment and wonder, I opened up The Elements of Style and came across this sentence: “The colon has more effect than the comma, less power to separate than the semicolon, and more formality than the dash.” It was amazing to see so much instruction compressed into so few words.

In college, I developed the habit of rereading Strunk and White at least once a year. Perhaps I should do it more frequently because verbal profligacy, which was Strunk’s sworn enemy and the capital sin of writing, is something I just can't seem to get rid of no matter how hard I try. One of the reasons I picked up this book was the hope that by observing White's work, his example might succeed where his precepts failed.

With White, his style is an extension of himself. Any discussion of his works inevitably leads to an analysis of his prose. Firstly, White is not what I would call a vocal writer. A vocal writer's work seems to come alive and speak, and it can only be read in the author's own accent, not in your own voice. White's writing, while personable, charming, and full of feeling, doesn't leap off the page and into your living room. It is more of a writerly kind of writing.

His style is conversational rather than aphoristic. His sentences aren't pointed, his wit isn't barbed, and his lines aren't militantly memorable. His writing is loose, like a cotton shirt that breathes, or like an old wooden cabin that is drafty. You could say that his essays are a controlled ramble, a balancing act that appears to be a casual stroll. They take their time. Like a scatterbrained errand boy, they pause in countless places for momentary meetings and secret dalliances before finally reaching their destinations.

White rarely speaks in abstractions and hardly makes an argument. His writing is held together not by the logic of ideas but by the fabric of memory. This is partly why the style is inseparable from the content. There is no specific thesis to extract. He isn't trying to prove a point but rather to communicate his perspective and encapsulate a part of his personality.

White's personality is truly delightful. He is modest and gently humorous, and his curiosity about the little things that make up his world is what animates him. He can study a train schedule with great enthusiasm, spend hours looking at a spider's web, or write poetry about the life-cycle of a pig. This is what makes him such a superb essayist. In the ordinary facts and daily occurrences of life, he hears music and meaning, and like a spider, weaves his own web to stitch them into a delicate structure:

As I sat at table, gnawing away at a piece of pie, snow began falling. At first it was an almost imperceptible spitting from the gray sky, but it soon thickened and came driving in from the northeast. I watched it catch along the edge of the drive, powder the stone wall, and whiten the surface of the dark frozen pond, and I knew that all along the coast from Kittery on, the worst mistakes of men were being quietly erased, the lines of their industrial temples softened, and U.S. 1 crowned with a cold, inexpensive glory

There isn't much that can be criticized about these essays, except perhaps what can be said against all stylists. Since what White says is less important than how he says it, when the reader finishes, they are left with only echoes and aftertastes. However, it is a delicious aftertaste, tart and tangy with a hint of smoke, and it makes me eager for more.

We read E.B. White mainly for the delight of his company, for a voice that combines ease and effortless wit with incisive yet gentle insights. He is a model of George Orwell's admonition that good prose should be like a window-pane, transparent to the reader and reflecting meaning without the smudges of poor construction or the cloudiness of jargon.

If style is the man, then few writers presented themselves with a more charming style and personality than E.B. White.

White's essays, deceptively conversational in tone, were no accident. If you think they are easy to imitate, just give it a try. His sentences may seem like a confidential nudge in the side, but they are perfectly balanced to convey an apt observation, whether about his Maine farm or a transformed New York City. This is exquisitely honed prose, neither casual nor hasty in its composition.

White made many general observations about the state of democracy and other broad topics, but the true power of his writing lay in his celebration of the particularity of the natural world.

It is difficult to predict what will happen. I know one thing that has occurred: the willow by the brook has donned her yellow dress, adding, along with the faded pink of the snow fences, a splash of color to the vast gray-and-white world. I also know that on some not-too-distant night, somewhere in a pond or ditch or low place, a frog will awaken, raise its voice in praise, and be joined by others. I will feel much better when I hear the frogs.

These essays, like White's life, oscillate between the city and the country. While his urban encomium, "Here is New York," is sincere, White's true passion lay with his Maine farm. "Death of a Pig" is justly renowned, but many of his other essays offer detailed, minute observations of the seasons of country life, along with its inhabitants, both human and non-human. Regarding the dilemma of planting corn that is devoured by a resident raccoon: "I cannot recall ever deriving the satisfaction from eating an ear of corn that I obtained from watching a raccoon descend a tree just at the edge of darkness."

One of White's heroes was Henry David Thoreau, and his encomium for Thoreau could also describe our feelings for White the essayist: "... the innocence and serenity of his summer afternoons are sufficient to break the remembering heart, and one looks back upon that pleasant interlude - its confidence, its purity, its deliberateness - with awe and wonder, as one would gaze upon the face of a sleeping child."

I spent the entire winter engrossed in this book. I have always had a profound love for E.B. White's fictional works. Reading them aloud with my kids was an absolute delight on two counts. Firstly, I got to witness their unbridled joy as they immersed themselves in the stories. Secondly, as an adult, I was able to experience them anew, with a fresh perspective. Is there anything quite as poignant as the sadness of Wilbur in Charlotte's Web? And I firmly believe that Trumpet of the Swan might just be one of the finest books ever penned about living with a learning disability, applicable to both adults and children alike.

Earlier this year, when I went in search of White's "infamous" essay about rats and his intense loathing for them, I chanced upon this collection of essays. It was like stumbling upon a decadent hot fudge sundae on the library shelf. Or, more fittingly, it was akin to uncovering a stash of letters from an old friend that you had long forgotten you had set aside. His essays are truly AMAZING. They are simultaneously casual and intellectual, funny and sad, childlike and filled with sage advice. In particular, his nature essays are so rich and vibrant with life that I would feel a twinge of sadness when they came to an end, longing for him to continue regaling me with more tales about the purring of the wood stove in his kitchen, the snow, and the raccoons. Alas, I still haven't found the famous one about rats, but I'll keep searching, and if I discover even more essays than what's in this volume, I'll be overjoyed.

I swear to it - he anticipates September 11th from the mid-1970s in a truly remarkable essay about New York. There's also this wonderful piece where he writes about the peculiar idea that one day he will be expected to make the rocks in his Maine farmyard pay for themselves by generating energy. He was actually referring to atomic energy, but if you didn't know he was writing in the 1950s, you might think he was discussing fracking in 2013. Equally amazing are the numerous essays where he writes with dismay about modern farming practices and how strange he finds them.

Almost all of the essays read as fresh and new as ever. And yet, there is no one quite like him writing in modern times. His words are a substantial and precious slice of the twentieth century. Although I borrowed this book from the library, I feel an urgent need to purchase a hardcover copy. This is one of those books that you want to have on your shelf, ready to be devoured in the midst of a snowstorm or on a sleepless night. This is the work of a master essayist, creating magic with his words, much like Fred Astaire dancing, making it seem effortless and filled with joy.

The essayist is truly a self-liberated individual, supported by the innocent belief that everything he contemplates and everything that occurs to him holds universal interest. He is like a person who thoroughly relishes his work, much like those who go on bird walks and enjoy theirs. Each new venture of the essayist, each new "attempt," varies from the previous one and leads him into uncharted territory. Only someone who is innately self-centered possesses the audacity and the perseverance to pen essays.

Who could possibly resist such a disclaimer? Certainly not I. He had me captivated from that very first sentence in the foreword.

I completed this book with reluctance, reluctant because I didn't desire the essays to come to an end. This is always the case with the books I adore. I am a voracious reader and loathe to finish, or, to be more precise, I don't wish to part ways with the author or with the author's characters. White's essays were a joy to read, save for a couple that were rather gloomy predictions regarding the state and destiny of the world. But even in those, the writing was so excellent that it mitigated the gloom. The others were filled with sly humor. He never takes himself overly seriously. I need to discover more of his essays, or perhaps his letters. In the meantime, I will go and join his wife in the garden.

I truly long to go back to the way life was, just as it was so beautifully captured by White. He was such a gifted and graceful writer, whose words had the power to make me burst into laughter and at the same time, long for that unhurried life. His descriptions were so vivid that they seemed to transport me to a different era.

I was so deeply impressed by this book that I immediately bought it for my personal library. This way, I can read it again and again, each time uncovering new details and experiencing the same emotions all over again. It's like having a precious treasure that I can always turn to when I need a break from the hustle and bustle of modern life.

White's work is not just a book; it's a window into a world that we have lost but can still visit through his words. I feel truly fortunate to have discovered this gem and I know that it will remain a cherished part of my collection for a long time to come.

If you have ever found yourself in a situation where, while imagining speeding down a death-defying San Francisco hill, your foot seems to lose its purchase on the bicycle pedal, but without actually having the bicycle or the hill - then you should immediately turn to the essays of E.B. White. White's work is truly grounding.

Whether he is enumerating the simple pleasures of his Home Crawford 8-20 wood-burning kitchen stove, the boulder in the pasture woods where he seeks refuge when disenchanted or frightened, his beloved geese, his pig, the local raccoon, his experiences of winter, his lake, or his beloved Manhattan; or taking a train, a boat, or a plane - this man has the remarkable ability to transport you right back to the place where you need to be by morning.

There is a truth that is too little advertised: The mere act of reading his works has a restorative power. It can bring a sense of calm, a connection to the simple joys of life, and a reminder of the beauty and wonder that surrounds us. White's essays are like a warm embrace, a gentle nudge to slow down and appreciate the world around us.

So, the next time you find yourself in need of a literary escape, pick up a collection of E.B. White's essays and let his words work their magic.