You can ruin anything if you focus at it.
AIMEE BENDERYou can ruin anything if you focus at it.
AIMEE BENDERI 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.
AIMEE BENDERI 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 BENDERHe 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 BENDERWhen language is treated beautifully and interestingly, it can feel good for the body: It’s nourishing; it’s rejuvenating.
AIMEE BENDERBut 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 BENDERI didn’t mind the quiet stretches. It was like we were trying out the idea of being side by side.
AIMEE BENDERI have had with novel writing, and I have put to bed big chunks of work that just didn’t sustain my interest.
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.
AIMEE BENDERI knew if I ate anything of hers again, it would lkely tell me the same message: help me,
AIMEE BENDERKissing George was a little like rolling in caramel after spending years surviving off rice sticks.
AIMEE BENDERI watched as she added a question mark at the end. Arc, line, space, dot.
AIMEE BENDERThe wine glasses are empty except for that one undrinkable red spot at the bottom.
AIMEE BENDERI 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.
AIMEE BENDERIt is all about numbers. It is all about sequence. It’s the mathematical logic of being alive.
AIMEE BENDERMy eyelids are my own private cave, he murmured. That I can go to anytime I want.
AIMEE BENDER