You’re the perfect girl’, he said, rubbing his chin. ‘You expect nothing.
AIMEE BENDERNot getting bored of my own story and/or character is one of the main struggles.
More Aimee Bender Quotes
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He was also removing all traces of any tiny leftover parts, and suddenly a ritual which I’d always found incestuous and gross seemed to me more like a desperate act on Joseph’s part to get out, to leave, to extract every little last remnant and bring it into open air.
AIMEE BENDER -
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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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 -
You can ruin anything if you focus at it.
AIMEE BENDER -
Glen Hirshberg’s stories are haunting, absolutely, but not only because of the content.
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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.
AIMEE BENDER -
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 BENDER -
Sometimes, she said, mostly to herself, I feel I do not know my children…
AIMEE BENDER -
My eyelids are my own private cave, he murmured. That I can go to anytime I want.
AIMEE BENDER -
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.
AIMEE BENDER -
I give boring people something to discuss over corn.
AIMEE BENDER -
When language is treated beautifully and interestingly, it can feel good for the body: It’s nourishing; it’s rejuvenating.
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I felt the crumpled paper that had taken the place of my lungs expand as if released from a fist.
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.
AIMEE BENDER -
I am the drying meadow; you the unspoken apology; he is the fluctuating distance between mother and son.
AIMEE BENDER