This is why everyone who eats a Whopper leaves a little more depressed than they were when they came in. Nobody cooked that burger.
AIMEE BENDERI give boring people something to discuss over corn.
More Aimee Bender Quotes
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But what I kept wondering about is this: that first second when she felt her skirt burning, what did she think?
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And the warmth of the music inside her, did she believe, for even one glorious second, that her passion had arrived?
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As soon as you laugh from nerves or make a joke or say something just to say something or get all involved with the bushes, then you blow open a window in your house of desire and it can’t heat up as well. Cold draft comes in.
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and I get refill number three or four and the wine is making my bones loose and it’s giving my hair a red sheen and my breasts are blooming and my eyes feel sultry and wise and the dress is water.
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Many kids, it seemed, would find out that their parents were flawed, messed-up people later in life, and I didn’t appreciate getting to know it all so strong and early.
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But I loved George in part because he believed me; because if I stood in a cold, plain room and yelled FIRE, he would walk over and ask me why.
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Language is the ticket to plot and character, after all, because both are built out of language.
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Glen Hirshberg’s stories are haunting, absolutely, but not only because of the content.
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My lover is experiencing reverse evolution.
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I felt the crumpled paper that had taken the place of my lungs expand as if released from a fist.
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A Dorito asks nothing of you, which is its great gift. It only asks that you are not there.
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I was with them for all of it, but more like an echo than a participant.
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It’s such a fraught and exciting and kind of horrible time.
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The most so far, because she found the saddest thing of all to be the simple truth of her capacity to move on.
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I’m obsessed with adolescence. I love to write about people in their 20s.
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I give boring people something to discuss over corn.
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I admired that stride; it was like he folded space in two with it.
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It was a fleeting statement, one I didn’t think she’d hold on to; after all, she had birthed us alone, diapered and fed us, helped us with homework, kissed and hugged us, poured her love into us.
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Before she knew it was candles, did she think she’d done it herself? With the amazing turns of her hips.
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Sometimes, she said, mostly to herself, I feel I do not know my children…
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Large meadows are lovely for picnics and romping, but they are for the lighter feelings. Meadows do not make me want to write.
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Not getting bored of my own story and/or character is one of the main struggles.
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The stories themselves haunt, they stick around, they linger, inhabiting a little corner of the reader’s brain and resurfacing to evoke mystery or sadness or longing.
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I knew if I ate anything of hers again, it would lkely tell me the same message: help me,
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It is all about numbers. It is all about sequence. It’s the mathematical logic of being alive.
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I am not happy, help me — like a message in a bottle sent in each meal to the eater, and I got it. I got the message.
AIMEE BENDER