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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.

Aimee Bender

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Aimee Bender
Age: 55
Born: 1969
Born: June 28
Novelist
Writer
the United States of America
Lighter
Meadows
Lovely
Large
Write
Feelings
Writing
Picnics
Make
Lighters

More quotes by Aimee Bender

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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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I was right at the edge of their circle, like the tail of a Q...
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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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It is so often surprising, who rescues you at your lowest moments.
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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.
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The wine glasses are empty except for that one undrinkable red spot at the bottom.
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When 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.
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…kissing George was a little like rolling in caramel after spending years surviving off rice sticks.
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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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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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...a Dorito asks nothing of you, which is its great gift. It only asks that you are not there.
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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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Language is the ticket to plot and character, after all, because both are built out of language.
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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 watched as she added a question mark at the end. Arc, line, space, dot.
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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 didn’t mind the quiet stretches. It was like we were trying out the idea of being side by side.
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It seemed to happen in springs, the revealing of things.
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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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When language is treated beautifully and interestingly, it can feel good for the body: It's nourishing it's rejuvenating.
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