Webb Wilder Quotes

Everyone is haunted by something. A road not taken. A hurt, carried deep inside. Harsh words that echo long after the sting of them is carried away on the wind.

People get so caught up in themselves and their dramas, or they get ensnared in their own sorrows and tragedies, they forget to appreciate the beauty around them.

Reading for pleasure with nothing more important to do. What a delicious idea.

sometimes you have to descend into the ridiculous during extremely stressful situations to prevent insanity from setting in.

A century of souls inhabiting a place will leave an imprint that lingers long after they’re gone, and it lingered here. Not in a bad way. It felt well lived in.

brief moment. Then it’s back down into the abyss.

In such a wild, uncharted place the book of God was vital, for it nourished their spirit and laid boundaries for their conduct. Other subjects simply had no relevance. Trigonometry and calculus would not help them find their way among the mountain trails. Adam Smith's economics were of no consequence in the matter of planting corn and breeding cattle. Nor did they need the essays of Plato or the plays of Shakespeare to teach them how to shoot a rifle, or to make clothes from animal skins, or to clear away the wilderness with their own bare hands.

I'll be pool-side, if you're look'n for me.

Be at peace, wonderful lady,” he said. “You will leave this earth better than you found it. That is all any of us can ask.

This is what life is for. This is why we are here. To find the person who can bring our souls to life.

I think a person’s past, good or bad, idyllic or horrific, shapes who they are,” I said. “But I don’t believe it defines them.” He

It illustrated the point that love is love is love.

It stands to reason, if stress and sadness take it away, laughter can give it back.

the person who had loved me first and fiercest, my rock of steadfast support during every crazy and ill-advised decision I had ever made, my touchstone who made me laugh during good times and cried with me and shored me up during hard times, the woman whose wit and wisdom were razor sharp, would never open her eyes again and, soon, would not be alive on this earth any longer.

SISU.” It’s a Finnish word that doesn’t have a complete translation in English. It represents the zeitgeist of the Finnish people—strength, determination, bravery, courage, fortitude, perseverance. If you have sisu, it means you will not just handle but triumph over anything life throws at you.

When my mother died, I was not only washed away in the tsunami of grief, but I was also consumed with the utter blackness and fear that descended when I thought about her simply not being there, or anywhere, any longer. That the powerful spirit that was my mother was just . . . gone. And, when my time came, would I be gone, too? Would I be nowhere?

Many people gravitate toward the negative, wrap themselves around it and define themselves by it, even when circumstances don’t warrant it. They’ve always got something to complain about, even when the sun is shining. But you mined the positive out of a day that contained a whole lot of strangeness. That’s difficult to do, and it shows what kind of person you are. It shows what your spirit is.

Reading for pleasure with nothing more important to do. What a delicious

Many people gravitate toward the negative, wrap themselves around it and define themselves by it, even when circumstances don’t warrant it. They’ve always got something to complain about, even when the sun is shining.

knew her passing was coming, during the last year of her life. Even so, I was wholly unprepared for the vast emptiness she left behind.

I did some soul-searching and realized I hadn’t been happy in my relationship for a long time.

liked these people. So much laughter, so much good-natured teasing. I got the sense that they would go to the ends of the earth for each other.

I think a person’s past, good or bad, idyllic or horrific, shapes who they are,” I said. “But I don’t believe it defines them.

Everyone had their moods, their bad sides. Their inner Eeyore.

Reading for pleasure with nothing more important to do.

tasteless joke, yes, but sometimes you have to descend into the ridiculous during extremely stressful situations to prevent insanity from setting in.

Part of Maya’s magic was the fact that there wasn’t anyone else like her in the world, but somehow everyone could see something of themselves in her story, her aspirations, and the sheer scope of her life. You’re Italian? Maya spoke Italian. You’re a dancer? So was she. You’re from San Francisco? She conducted a streetcar there. She knew everyone, lived everywhere, read everything, and felt it all. The whole world was her home. All people were her people. There’s a scene in Thornton Wilder’s play Our Town that almost could have been describing Maya. Emily Webb is saying goodbye to the world one last time, and she asks the stage manager: “Do any human beings ever realize life while they live it?—every, every minute?” And he says, “No. The saints and poets, maybe—they do some.” That was Maya. She realized her life while she lived it. And not only that, she savored it—every single second.

Now I know I'm not what they call unassuming, But I'm in the monkey business, and business is booming.

What do they say?” I managed to squeak out, wishing he would just keep talking. He laughed. “Don’t you know? It’s haunted.

I was left with the searing resolution that life was too short to be unhappy for even one moment, if you could possibly help it.

the scarab was a symbol of transformation, resurrection, protection, and immortality. Reincarnation. Eternal life. People who wore scarab jewelry felt protected, knowing they were going to rise again.

I’ve never heard anyone call Alzheimer’s evil,” I said to him. “Then you’ve never watched someone you love slip away because of it.” He gave me a sad smile then. The pain behind it was tangible. He went on, staring out over the water as he spoke. “In some cases, it’s like they submerge into . . . I don’t know what. The collective. The otherworld. The beyond. They’re so close to death, they dip into it. And they’re gone from us for a while. Still here, but in another world, too, at the same time. They don’t know us. Don’t remember our names or anything about the life we lived together. But then, without warning, they can pop up. Put their heads above the surface. They slip back into our world and know us. They can call us by name. They become themselves again for a brief moment. Just a brief moment. Then it’s back down into the abyss.” He took a deep breath. “You wonder where they go, when they’re in that abyss.

We kids ran wild without any thought of danger, playing Star Light, Moon Light on summer nights, hiding in the dark until our friends found us, without any fear of strangers.

Next time you dream about the dead, ask them questions! Who was behind JFK’s assassination? What’s in Area 51? Does God hear NFL players praying before games? If so, does he have a favorite, because it seems to me the Patriots have some sort of upper hand.

He backed me into the wall and kissed me with a force, an urgency, a passion that took my breath away. This wasn’t just a flirty kiss. It was serious business.

Work hard, rock hard, eat hard, sleep hard, grow big, wear glasses if you need 'em