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.

— Aimee Bender

I started in our neighborhood, buying a pastrami burrito at OK Dog and a deluxe garden burger at Astro Burger and matzoh-ball soup at Greenblatt's and some greasy egg rolls at the Formosa. In part funny, and rigid, and sleepy, and angry. People. Then I made concentric circles outward, reaching first to Canter's and Pink's, then rippling farther, tofu at Yalu and mole at Algeria and sugar at Mar ouch; the sweet-corn salad at Cash in Silver Lake and Rae's charbroiled burgers on Pico and the garlicky hummus at Carousel in Glendale. I ate an enormous range of food, and mood. Many favorites showed up- families who had traveled far and whose dishes were steeped with the trials of passageways. An Iranian café near Ohio and Westwood had such a rich grief in the lamb shank that I could eat it all without doing any of my tricks-side of the mouth, ingredient tracking, fast-chew and swallow. Being there was like having a good cry, the clearing of the air after weight has been held. I asked the waiter if I could thank the chef, and he led me to the back, where a very ordinary-looking woman with gray hair in a practical layered cut tossed translucent onions in a fry pan and shook my hand. Her face was steady, faintly sweaty from the warmth of the kitchen. Glad you liked it, she said, as she added a pinch of saffron to the pan. Old family recipe, she said. No trembling in her voice, no tears streaking down her face.

— Aimee Bender

It is all about numbers. It is all about sequence. Furthermore, 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 Bender

It is difficult to want to tell a grave that it is not immortal. It's so obvious at that point.

— Aimee Bender

It is these empty spaces you have to watch out for, as they flood up with feeling before you even realize what's happened.

— Aimee Bender

It's tempting to think of red for sun," she said, "but it has to be just a dash, not much. More of a dark orange and a hint of brown. And then white on yellow on white. Not bright white,' she said. 'The kind of white that makes you squint, but in a softer way...'' Go look at fire for a while. Go spend some time with fire.' Looking at fire was interesting, I have to admit. I sat with a candle for a couple of hours. It has these stages of color: the white, the yellow, the red, the tiny spot of blue I'd heard mentioned but never noticed.

— Aimee Bender

It was ridiculous, at times, how many tears one body could produce.

— Aimee Bender

It was the kind of conversation you could only hold in whispers.

— Aimee Bender

I wanted to bathe in plum juice, rediscover my body and adorn it in kiwi circles.

— Aimee Bender

Last day I saw him human, he was sad about the world.

— Aimee Bender