Marianne Wiggins Quotes

There is only ever one answer to the question what did you do with your life, and it's the same
fleeting and unknowable
for every one of us. I lived.

I was a very, very old child. Sometimes you meet a child who seems more like an adult. I think I was that type of child because I had a nearly fatal kidney disease when I was 9 years old.

Wherever love comes from, whatever is its genesis, it isn't like a quantity of gold or diamonds, even water in the earth-a fixed quantity, Fos thought. You can't use up love, deplete it at its source. Love exists beyond fixed limits. Beyond what you can see or count.

I know that every atom of life in all this universe is bound up together. I know that pebble cannot be thrown into the ocean without distrubing every drop of water in the sea. I know that every life is inextricably mixed and woven with every other life. I know that every influence, conscious and unconscious, acts and reacts on every living organism, and that no one can fix the blame.
I know that all life is a series of infinite chances, which sometimes result one way and sometimes another. I have not the infinite wisdom that can fathom it, neither has any other human brain. But I do know that in back of it is a power that made it, that power alone can tell, and if there is no power, then it is an infinite chance which man cannot solve.

I don't remember being a child, and that's why I think I'm so child-like now in my unending curiosity and approach to life.

What being in the War and being in the Army had shown him was that people tend naturally toward light, toward its source, as sunflowers do in a field.
People lean, either in their dreams or in their actions, toward that place where they suspect their inner lights are coming from. Whether they call it God or conscience or the manual of Army protocol, people sublime toward where their inner fire burns, and given enough fuel for thought and a level playing field to dream on, anyone can leave a fingerprint on the blank of history. That's what
Fos believed.

Maybe there are moments between any two adults in love when the age of one of them dissolves before the other's eyes, when the first refuge of the soul at its creation is laid bare and skinless as a sunbeam through a window. Innocence and vulnerability, two unmeasurable quantities ... Perhaps that is the essence of the protection's intimacy, that it dwells in camouflage and justifies itself in stillness.

Because way back before you were even born there was this girl you see. And I fell in love with her. It was something that I wanted-love-not because it was expected of me, but because I found it out my self-that happiness of wanting to be with that other person.

I think what you can't see is always what you should be frightened of.

You speak your mind, don't you ... ? A rare find in a woman.

You build a tower then you also build the chance it will fall. To think of life as a foolproof is a falacy of fools, he thought. Things happen, he believed, and there's nothing you can do to keep them from occuring.

It makes you wonder. How much you can know about a thing, a person. If you can know anything at all. Maybe no one's who we think they are. No one. Makes you doubt yourself, wonder if you even know yourself or if you've been lyin, too, along with everybody else.

The sight of Fos and Opal coming down the street together absolutely tickled him. The idea of two such strangely unremarkable yet lovable people could have found and met each other reaffirmed his waning faith in anything remotely optimistic about mankind and seemed to be a more convincing proof than all the gospel shit flown from the pulpits of Knox County that life could, in fact, distribute happy endings.

It's not how long it glows. It's not how long the light lasts. It's what it says while it's still visible.

To love is to accept that one might die another death before one dies one's own.

You think you know someone by looking at his face but what can one face say about the thousand thoughts behind those eyes.

I'm fascinated by the narrative of geology, and I'm a veritable pack rat of a collector on the road. I keep a rock hammer in my car.

To make art is to realize another's sadness within, realize the hidden sadness in other people's lives, to feel sad with and for a stranger.

Her father ... was all front to back in his transparency: what you saw was what there was, there was nothing clandestine in his character, and those few aspects that were disguised or hidden were that way because they were his closely kept emotions. When on those rare occasions he allowed his emotions to be seen, their appearance was all the more surprising. And more powerful. Which taught her early on a thing or two about the power of what's visible
it derives its mystery from what it hides. How many stories had she heard of people sensing ghosts behind the walls, hobgoblins in the woods? People living on the shores of lakes since time began have conjured creatures from those depths. If you believe a thing is something different from the evidence before you, if you believe something is hidden by the wall or in the woods or beneath the surface of the lake, then that belief gives power to the darkness and the depths
power to enchant; to terrify.