“I never knew for sure that I would follow a literary profession. I was 27 or 28 before anything happened that gave me any assurance that I could make a go of writing. I had done a great deal of writing, but I lacked confidence in my ability to put it to good use. . . .
“I ordered dinner and began opening my mail. From one envelope, two or three checks dropped out, from The New Yorker. I suppose they totaled a little under $100, but it looked like a fortune to me. I can still remember the feeling that ‘this was it’ — I was a pro at last. It was a good feeling and I enjoyed the meal.”
—E.B. White (1899-1985), pretty good writer, “E.B. White, The Art of the Essay No. 1,” The Paris Review, 1969.
• Editorial Comment: Nothing like a good meal to make you feel like a success.
PeezPix by Brenda Cooper
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