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 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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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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To see someone you love, in a bad setting, is one of the great barometers of gratitude.
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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.
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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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Language is the ticket to plot and character, after all, because both are built out of language.
AIMEE BENDER -
As a writer you ask yourself to dream while awake.
AIMEE BENDER -
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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Sometimes, she said, mostly to herself, I feel I do not know my children…
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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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My eyelids are my own private cave, he murmured. That I can go to anytime I want.
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You can ruin anything if you focus at it.
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The writing I tend to think of as ‘good’ is good because it’s mysterious.
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I want to be violated by insight.
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You try, you seem totally nuts, you go underground.
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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.
AIMEE BENDER -
Glen Hirshberg’s stories are haunting, absolutely, but not only because of the content.
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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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While she cut the mushrooms, she cried more than she had at the grave.
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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.
AIMEE BENDER -
It is so often surprising, who rescues you at your lowest moments.
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I’m obsessed with adolescence. I love to write about people in their 20s.
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It’s such a fraught and exciting and kind of horrible time.
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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.
AIMEE BENDER -
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.
AIMEE BENDER -
I was with them for all of it, but more like an echo than a participant.
AIMEE BENDER