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 BENDERWhile she cut the mushrooms, she cried more than she had at the grave.
More Aimee Bender Quotes
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You can ruin anything if you focus at it.
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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.
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It’s such a fraught and exciting and kind of horrible time.
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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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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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I admired that stride; it was like he folded space in two with it.
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If everything kept to its normal progression, we would live with the sadness-cry and then walk-but what really breaks us cleanest are the losses that happen out of order.
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I watched as she added a question mark at the end. Arc, line, space, dot.
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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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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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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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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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Many kids, it seemed, would find out that their parents were flawed, messed-up people later in life, and I didn’t appreciate getting to know it all so strong and early.
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Mom loved my brother more. Not that she didn’t love me – I felt the wash of her love every day.
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Mom flipped through the magazines like the pages needed to be slapped.
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