I was with them for all of it, but more like an echo than a participant.
AIMEE BENDERMany 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.
More Aimee Bender Quotes
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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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When language is treated beautifully and interestingly, it can feel good for the body: It’s nourishing; it’s rejuvenating.
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I’m obsessed with adolescence. I love to write about people in their 20s.
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Sometimes, she said, mostly to herself, I feel I do not know my children…
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I am the drying meadow; you the unspoken apology; he is the fluctuating distance between mother and son.
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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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Not getting bored of my own story and/or character is one of the main struggles.
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I watched as she added a question mark at the end. Arc, line, space, dot.
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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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I didn’t mind the quiet stretches. It was like we were trying out the idea of being side by side.
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Mom flipped through the magazines like the pages needed to be slapped.
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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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I don’t think so, I don’t agree. The most unbearable thing I think by far, she said, is hope.
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Listen. Look. Desire is a house. Desire needs closed space. Desire runs out of doors or windows, or slats or pinpricks, it can’t fit under the sky, too large. Close the doors. Close the windows.
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We hit the sidewalk, and dropped hands. How I wished, right then, that the whole world was a street.
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As a writer you ask yourself to dream while awake.
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When the light at Vernon turned green, we stepped into the street and George grabbed my hand and the ghosts of our younger selves crossed with us.
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I give boring people something to discuss over corn.
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But the sky is interesting, it changes all the time.
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I admired that stride; it was like he folded space in two with it.
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My lover is experiencing reverse evolution.
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Kissing George was a little like rolling in caramel after spending years surviving off rice sticks.
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To see someone you love, in a bad setting, is one of the great barometers of gratitude.
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You can ruin anything if you focus at it.
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It seems the best work I do is when I am really allowing the unconscious to rule the page and then later I can go back and hack around and make sense of things.
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You try, you seem totally nuts, you go underground.
AIMEE BENDER