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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, 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

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Aimee Bender
Age: 55
Born: 1969
Born: June 28
Novelist
Writer
the United States of America
Felt
Pouring
Didn
Wash
Body
Darling
Different
Mom
Every
Daughter
Kind
Brother
Siphoned
Love
Loved
Tamer
Water
Joseph

More quotes by Aimee Bender

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But the sky is interesting, it changes all the time.
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It was like we were exchanging codes, on how to be a father and a daughter, like we'd read about it in a manual, translated from another language, and were doing our best with what we could understand.
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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.
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Not getting bored of my own story and/or character is one of the main struggles I have had with novel writing, and I have put to bed big chunks of work that just didn't sustain my interest.
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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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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 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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Glen Hirshberg's stories are haunting, absolutely, but not only because of the content -- 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. It's a pleasure to dive into Hirshberg's storytelling skills in American Morons.
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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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It seemed to happen in springs, the revealing of things.
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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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We hit the sidewalk, and dropped hands. How I wished, right then, that the whole world was a street.
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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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Mom flipped through the magazines like the pages needed to be slapped.
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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.
Aimee Bender
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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
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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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To see someone you love, in a bad setting, is one of the great barometers of gratitude.
Aimee Bender
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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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Light is good company, when alone I took my comfort where I found it, and the warmest yellow bulb in the living-room lamp had become a kind of radiant babysitter all its own.
Aimee Bender