Sherrie would be there, and the last time I’d seen her at a social event she burst into tears when she saw me and ran out of the room. You’re upset, I’d yelled after her, meanly.
Aimee BenderMots clés food snark upset magic-power
It was the kind of conversation you could only hold in whispers.
Aimee BenderMots clés conversation whisper
He said, I always thought the woman I’d marry would hit me easy, in a bolt of lightning, and there is not lightning there is not even thunder there is not even rain.
Aimee BenderMots clés woman marriage love-at-first-sight
I felt her come by later, as I was dozing off. Her standing, by my bed. The depth of shadow of a person felt behind closed eyelids.
Aimee BenderNo one needed to say it, but the room overflowed with that sort of blessing. The combination of loss and abundance. The abundance that has no guilt. The loss that has no fix. The simple tiredness that is not weary. The hope not built on blindness.
Aimee BenderMots clés hope guilt description blindness beautiful ineffable hymn blessing mood abundance wordless
The world can ask you to participate, but it's a day-today decision if you want to agree to that proposal.
Aimee BenderMots clés world depression participate
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.
Aimee BenderMots clés life loss logic math numbers alive
I will never die, thought the cake to itself, in even simpler terms, as cakes did not have sophisticated use of language.
Aimee BenderRose,sensing her mother's distress..."She did not face me, but I could feel the vibration of tears, a kind of pain hive,rustling inside her.
Aimee BenderMots clés emotional-pain
Sono innamorata dello smettere. A suo modo è un'arte, se ci pensate. Smettere bene richiede un innato senso della bellezza; bisogna saper sentire il momento della svolta, proprio quando il desiderio fa la sua comparsa, quello è il momento di darci un taglio, giù deciso, l'istante in cui lo smettere è maturo come una pesca che si fa dolce sull'albero: crack, si spacca il picciolo, la pesca cade per terra, nera e argento di mosche.
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