I write funny. If I can make my wife laugh, I know I'm on the

Hear now the gentle wisdom of Gene Wilder, the alchemist of laughter, who wove both humor and heartbreak into his art. He once said: “I write funny. If I can make my wife laugh, I know I’m on the right track. But yes, I don’t like to get maudlin. And I have a tendency towards it.” In these few words, light and humble though they seem, lies a truth about the delicate balance between joy and sorrow, between art and the heart that shapes it. Wilder, whose smile hid the soft melancholy of a poet’s soul, speaks here of discipline in emotion, and of laughter as both compass and cure.

For the man who writes funny is not merely one who jests. He is a craftsman of light—one who takes the raw material of human pain and refines it into something that shines. To make another laugh, especially one’s beloved, is a sacred act. When Wilder says that his wife’s laughter guides him, he reveals that love is his measure of truth. The laughter of someone who knows your depths is the most honest mirror; it cannot be faked or forced. Thus, when she laughs, he knows he has struck gold—not the cheap kind that fades, but the kind that warms the heart.

And yet, he confesses his shadow: “I have a tendency towards getting maudlin.” In this, Wilder shows his humanity. For beneath every clown’s paint lies the tear that will not dry. The maudlin, that soft and sorrowful sentiment, whispers to every artist who has seen the fragility of life. Wilder fought against it not because sorrow is evil, but because unchecked melancholy can drown the very laughter it inspires. He knew that comedy must walk a narrow path—it must touch sadness but not be consumed by it. In this balance lies greatness: to acknowledge pain without surrendering to it, to laugh not as denial, but as resurrection.

This duality has ancient roots. Consider Aristophanes, the Greek playwright who mocked the mighty and made Athens roar with laughter. His humor, though bold and absurd, was not empty jest—it was a cry for wisdom in a foolish world. He used laughter to expose truth, just as Wilder did in his own time. Both understood that humor, when pure, does not ignore emotion; it transforms it. The laughter they sought was not shallow mirth—it was healing, the soul’s way of reminding itself that joy and sorrow are not enemies, but companions on the same road.

Gene Wilder’s life itself was a testament to this balance. Behind his whimsical performances in Willy Wonka and Young Frankenstein was a man who knew loss and loneliness. He lost his great love, Gilda Radner, to illness, and yet continued to create with tenderness and grace. When he spoke of avoiding maudlin sentiment, he was not denying grief—he was mastering it. He learned that to drown in sadness would silence his art, but to acknowledge it, to shape it with humor and restraint, would turn his pain into light. In his laughter, there was always the quiet note of understanding, the echo of compassion.

And so, his words carry a lesson not just for artists, but for all who live between laughter and longing. To be alive is to stand between joy and sorrow, to feel the pull of tears even while smiling. Wilder teaches us that laughter is not the opposite of sadness—it is its redemption. When you create, love, or live, you will feel that same tug toward the maudlin, the longing to drown in emotion. Resist it not with coldness, but with warmth. Channel it into humor, into kindness, into something that uplifts rather than consumes.

Therefore, let us take this wisdom as a guide: find the laughter that heals, not the laughter that hides. Let your art, your words, your daily life be touched by love and tempered by restraint. Seek out the people whose laughter tells you you’re on the right path, as Wilder did with his beloved. And when melancholy whispers at your door, greet it—but do not let it stay. Turn it into something beautiful. For in doing so, you will, like Gene Wilder, discover the secret of the human spirit—that even in our deepest sorrow, we are still capable of joy, and that to make another soul laugh is one of the most sacred acts under heaven.