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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

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Aimee Bender
Age: 55
Born: 1969
Born: June 28
Novelist
Writer
the United States of America
Hands
Wide
Reds
Love
Window
Peering
Looked
Rushes
Rooms
Painted
Building
Buildings
Hand
Windows
Dark
Revealed
Living
Apartment

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As a writer you ask yourself to dream while awake.
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While she cut the mushrooms, she cried more than she had at the grave, 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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Language is the ticket to plot and character, after all, because both are built out of language.
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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. 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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You try, you seem totally nuts, you go underground.
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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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I didn’t mind the quiet stretches. It was like we were trying out the idea of being side by side.
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The wine glasses are empty except for that one undrinkable red spot at the bottom.
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My lover is experiencing reverse evolution.
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It seemed to happen in springs, the revealing of things.
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You can ruin anything if you focus at it.
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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.
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I knew if I ate anything of hers again, it would lkely tell me the same message: help me, 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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I am the drying meadow you the unspoken apology he is the fluctuating distance between mother and son 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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I'm obsessed with adolescence. I love to write about people in their 20s. It's such a fraught and exciting and kind of horrible time.
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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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I felt the crumpled paper that had taken the place of my lungs expand as if released from a fist.
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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.
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But the sky is interesting, it changes all the time.
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I was right at the edge of their circle, like the tail of a Q...
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