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 BENDERMy eyelids are my own private cave, he murmured. That I can go to anytime I want.
More Aimee Bender Quotes
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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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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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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 want to be violated by insight.
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Kissing George was a little like rolling in caramel after spending years surviving off rice sticks.
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While she cut the mushrooms, she cried more than she had at the grave.
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Mom flipped through the magazines like the pages needed to be slapped.
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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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I peeled the skin off a grape in slippery little triangles, and I understood then that I would be undressing every item of food I could because my clothes would be staying on.
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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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It is all about numbers. It is all about sequence. It’s the mathematical logic of being alive.
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The wine glasses are empty except for that one undrinkable red spot at the bottom.
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But the sky is interesting, it changes all the time.
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It seemed to happen in springs, the revealing of things.
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You’re the perfect girl’, he said, rubbing his chin. ‘You expect nothing.
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As a writer you ask yourself to dream while awake.
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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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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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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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I was with them for all of it, but more like an echo than a participant.
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I give boring people something to discuss over corn.
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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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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 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 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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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.
AIMEE BENDER