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.
AIMEE BENDERThis is why everyone who eats a Whopper leaves a little more depressed than they were when they came in. Nobody cooked that burger.
More Aimee Bender Quotes
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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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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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With my hand in his, I looked at all the apartment buildings with rushes of love, peering in the wide streetside windows that revealed living rooms painted in dark burgandies and matte reds.
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It is so often surprising, who rescues you at your lowest moments.
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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.
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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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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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I am the drying meadow; you the unspoken apology; he is the fluctuating distance between mother and son.
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That at the same time of this very intimate act of concentrating so carefully on the details of our mother’s palm and fingertips.
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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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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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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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I watched as she added a question mark at the end. Arc, line, space, dot.
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As a writer you ask yourself to dream while awake.
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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’s such a fraught and exciting and kind of horrible time.
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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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You try, you seem totally nuts, you go underground.
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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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While she cut the mushrooms, she cried more than she had at the grave.
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My lover is experiencing reverse evolution.
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I give boring people something to discuss over corn.
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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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When language is treated beautifully and interestingly, it can feel good for the body: It’s nourishing; it’s rejuvenating.
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That she might not actually know us seemed the humblest thing a mother could admit.
AIMEE BENDER