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.
AIMEE BENDERWhen 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.
More Aimee Bender Quotes
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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.
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I watched as she added a question mark at the end. Arc, line, space, dot.
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I was with them for all of it, but more like an echo than a participant.
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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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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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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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This is why everyone who eats a Whopper leaves a little more depressed than they were when they came in. Nobody cooked that burger.
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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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A Dorito asks nothing of you, which is its great gift. It only asks that you are not there.
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I give boring people something to discuss over corn.
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It seemed to happen in springs, the revealing of things.
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You try, you seem totally nuts, you go underground.
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It is so often surprising, who rescues you at your lowest moments.
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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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I like birthday cake. It’s so symbolic. It’s a tempting symbol to load with something more complicated than just ‘Happy birthday!’ because it’s this emblem of childhood and a happy day.
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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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It is all about numbers. It is all about sequence. It’s the mathematical logic of being alive.
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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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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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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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You’re the perfect girl’, he said, rubbing his chin. ‘You expect nothing.
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My genes, my love, are rubber bands and rope; make yourself a structure you can live inside. Amen.” – Aimee Bender (Willful Creatures: Stories)
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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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Not getting bored of my own story and/or character is one of the main struggles.
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