Well, I have dog-eared, underlined and exclamation-pointed my way through the co...

Well, I have dog-eared, underlined and exclamation-pointed my way through the collected essays of E.B. White. And I have to say that I am sad to be done. Actually, what I am is bereft. I never knew E.B. White, but I miss him terribly.
His ability to see, to marvel--his rueful, joyful ruminations--have kept me such good company that I cannot bear to shelve the book.
When I went to the cabin last week, I took the essays with me even though I had read them all. The book is on my desk now and it...