I didn’t mind the quiet stretches. It was like we were trying out the idea of being side by side.
AIMEE BENDERI was with them for all of it, but more like an echo than a participant.
More Aimee Bender Quotes
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Kissing George was a little like rolling in caramel after spending years surviving off rice sticks.
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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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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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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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You can ruin anything if you focus at it.
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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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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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Sometimes, she said, mostly to herself, I feel I do not know my children…
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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 am the drying meadow; you the unspoken apology; he is the fluctuating distance between mother and son.
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But the sky is interesting, it changes all the time.
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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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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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My lover is experiencing reverse evolution.
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I watched as she added a question mark at the end. Arc, line, space, dot.
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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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It seemed to happen in springs, the revealing of things.
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A Dorito asks nothing of you, which is its great gift. It only asks that you are not there.
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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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It is so often surprising, who rescues you at your lowest moments.
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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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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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Glen Hirshberg’s stories are haunting, absolutely, but not only because of the content.
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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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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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The most so far, because she found the saddest thing of all to be the simple truth of her capacity to move on.
AIMEE BENDER