I watched as she added a question mark at the end. Arc, line, space, dot.
AIMEE BENDERYou can ruin anything if you focus at it.
More Aimee Bender Quotes
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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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It’s such a fraught and exciting and kind of horrible time.
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He was also removing all traces of any tiny leftover parts, and suddenly a ritual which I’d always found incestuous and gross seemed to me more like a desperate act on Joseph’s part to get out, to leave, to extract every little last remnant and bring it into open air.
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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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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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We’re all getting too smart. Our brains are just getting bigger and bigger, and the world dries up and dies when there’s too much thought and not enough heart.
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That’s the thing with handmade items. They still have the person’s mark on them, and when you hold them, you feel less alone.
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The writing I tend to think of as ‘good’ is good because it’s mysterious.
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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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Sometimes, she said, mostly to herself, I feel I do not know my children…
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I could feel the tears beginning to collect in my throat again, but I pushed them apart, away from each other. Tears are only a threat in groups.
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It is so often surprising, who rescues you at your lowest moments.
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It was like we were exchanging codes, on how to be a father and a daughter, like we’d read about it in a manual, translated from another language, and were doing our best with what we could understand.
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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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As a writer you ask yourself to dream while awake.
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But the sky is interesting, it changes all the time.
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She is the first gesture that creates a quiet that is full enough to make the baby sleep. My genes, my love, are rubber bands and rope; make yourself a structure you can live inside. Amen.
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Pouring over me, but it was a different kind, siphoned from a different, and tamer, body of water. I was her darling daughter; Joseph was her it.
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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 want to be violated by insight.
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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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I like birthday cake. It’s so symbolic. It’s a tempting symbol to load with something more complicated than just ‘Happy birthday!’ because it’s this emblem of childhood and a happy day.
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Light is good company, when alone; I took my comfort where I found it, and the warmest yellow bulb in the living-room lamp had become a kind of radiant babysitter all its own.
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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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You feel wonderful, you feel like somebody knows you’re alive, you feel fear because it could be a bomb, because you think you’re that important.
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My lover is experiencing reverse evolution.
AIMEE BENDER