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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.

Aimee Bender

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Aimee Bender
Age: 55
Born: 1969
Born: June 28
Novelist
Writer
the United States of America
Dries
Enough
Brains
Heart
Bigger
Much
Smart
World
Brain
Dies
Getting
Thought

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I was with them for all of it, but more like an echo than a participant.
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You can ruin anything if you focus at it.
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My eyelids are my own private cave, he murmured. That I can go to anytime I want.
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It is so often surprising, who rescues you at your lowest moments.
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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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I want to be violated by insight.
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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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But what I kept wondering about is this: that first second when she felt her skirt burning, what did she think? Before she knew it was candles, did she think she'd done it herself? With the amazing turns of her hips, and the warmth of the music inside her, did she believe, for even one glorious second, that her passion had arrived?
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My lover is experiencing reverse evolution.
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To see someone you love, in a bad setting, is one of the great barometers of gratitude.
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...a Dorito asks nothing of you, which is its great gift. It only asks that you are not there.
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It is all about numbers. It is all about sequence. It's the mathematical logic of being alive. 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 admired that stride it was like he folded space in two with 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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It seemed to happen in springs, the revealing of things.
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You're the perfect girl', he said, rubbing his chin. 'You expect nothing.
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My genes, my love, are rubber bands and rope make yourself a structure you can live inside. Amen. — Aimee Bender (Willful Creatures: Stories)
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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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When language is treated beautifully and interestingly, it can feel good for the body: It's nourishing it's rejuvenating.
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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