Sometimes, she said, mostly to herself, I feel I do not know my children…
AIMEE BENDERI 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.
More Aimee Bender Quotes
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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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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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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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Language is the ticket to plot and character, after all, because both are built out of language.
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It seems the best work I do is when I am really allowing the unconscious to rule the page and then later I can go back and hack around and make sense of things.
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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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Glen Hirshberg’s stories are haunting, absolutely, but not only because of the content.
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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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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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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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I was right at the edge of their circle, like the tail of a Q…
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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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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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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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As a writer you ask yourself to dream while awake.
AIMEE BENDER