That she might not actually know us seemed the humblest thing a mother could admit.
AIMEE BENDERListen. 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.
More Aimee Bender Quotes
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It’s such a fraught and exciting and kind of horrible time.
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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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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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We hit the sidewalk, and dropped hands. How I wished, right then, that the whole world was a street.
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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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Language is the ticket to plot and character, after all, because both are built out of language.
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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 am the drying meadow; you the unspoken apology; he is the fluctuating distance between mother and son.
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There’s a gift in your lap and it’s beautifully wrapped and it’s not your birthday.
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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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I peeled the skin off a grape in slippery little triangles, and I understood then that I would be undressing every item of food I could because my clothes would be staying on.
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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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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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It’s a pleasure to dive into Hirshberg’s storytelling skills in American Morons.
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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.
AIMEE BENDER