That she might not actually know us seemed the humblest thing a mother could admit.
AIMEE BENDERBefore she knew it was candles, did she think she’d done it herself? With the amazing turns of her hips.
More Aimee Bender Quotes
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It seemed to happen in springs, the revealing of things.
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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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I felt the crumpled paper that had taken the place of my lungs expand as if released from a fist.
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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 am the drying meadow; you the unspoken apology; he is the fluctuating distance between mother and son.
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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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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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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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A Dorito asks nothing of you, which is its great gift. It only asks that you are not there.
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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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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 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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We’re all getting too smart. Our brains are just getting bigger and bigger, and the world dries up and dies when there’s too much thought and not enough heart.
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I don’t think so, I don’t agree. The most unbearable thing I think by far, she said, is hope.
AIMEE BENDER