Glen Hirshberg’s stories are haunting, absolutely, but not only because of the content.
AIMEE BENDERMom loved my brother more. Not that she didn’t love me – I felt the wash of her love every day.
More Aimee Bender Quotes
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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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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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I am the drying meadow; you the unspoken apology; he is the fluctuating distance between mother and son.
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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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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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I give boring people something to discuss over corn.
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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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Not getting bored of my own story and/or character is one of the main struggles.
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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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It is all about numbers. It is all about sequence. It’s the mathematical logic of being alive.
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The writing I tend to think of as ‘good’ is good because it’s mysterious.
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As a writer you ask yourself to dream while awake.
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It’s a pleasure to dive into Hirshberg’s storytelling skills in American Morons.
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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 didn’t mind the quiet stretches. It was like we were trying out the idea of being side by side.
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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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You’re the perfect girl’, he said, rubbing his chin. ‘You expect nothing.
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This is why everyone who eats a Whopper leaves a little more depressed than they were when they came in. Nobody cooked that burger.
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Mom loved my brother more. Not that she didn’t love me – I felt the wash of her love every day.
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Kissing George was a little like rolling in caramel after spending years surviving off rice sticks.
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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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I want to be violated by insight.
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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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There’s a gift in your lap and it’s beautifully wrapped and it’s not your birthday.
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It’s such a fraught and exciting and kind of horrible time.
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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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