Clergyman's

Over 70k "Quotes"

“He made a good salary but he did not flaunt it. He’d been raised in Chicago proper by a Lithuanian Jewish mother who had grown up in poverty, telling stories, often, of extending a chicken to its fullest capacity, so as soon as a restaurant served his dish, he would promptly cut it in half and ask for a to-go container. Portions are too big anyway, he’d grumble, patting his waistline. He’d only give away his food if the corners were cleanly cut, as he believed a homeless person would just feel worse eating food with ragged bitemarks at the edges – as if, he said, they are dogs, or bacteria. Dignity, he said, lifting his half-lasagna into its box, is no detail.”
— Aimee Bender

“George Malcolm: half white, half black, with messy tousled hair, rumpled and tugged between kind of curly and extremely curly. Once, a year or so before, he’d been at our house and he’d pulled out a lock of his hair and used it to teach me about eddies and helixes. It’s a circular current into a central station, he’d explained, giving me one to hold. I pulled on the spring. Nature is full of the same shapes, he said, taking me to the bathroom sink and spinning on the top and pointing out the way the water swirled down the drain. Taking me to the bookshelf and flipping open a book on weather and showing me a cyclone. Then a spiral galaxy. Pulling me back to the bathroom sink, to my glass jar of collected seashells, and pointing out the same curl in a miniature conch. See? he said, holding the seashell up to his hair. Yes! I clapped. His eyes were warm with teaching pleasure. It’s galactic hair, he said, smiling.At school, George was legendary already. He was so natural at physics that one afternoon the eighth-grade science teacher had asked him to do a preview of the basics of relativity, really fast, for the class. George had stood up and done such a fine job, using a paperweight and a yardstick and the standard-issue school clock, that the teacher had pulled a twenty-dollar bill from his wallet. I’d like to be the first person to pay you for your clarity of mind, the teacher had said. George used the cash to order pizza for the class. Double pepperoni, he told me later, when I’d asked.”
— Aimee Bender

“He had set up a telescope on a corner of the roof, and we went up to take a look.This is time travel, he said, narrowing an eye to set the lens. Because the light is old. We’re seeing back in time.No, we said, wrinkling our noses. We are seeing right now, today.No, he said, the light has to travel to us and it takes millions of years. What you’re seeing is time. Excuse me, we said. We were embarrassed to correct him. He seemed so smart. What we’re seeing is space.It’s space, yes, he said. It’s also time. You’re seeing what has already happened.”
— Aimee Bender

“There are students that are scattered, who need to see something through to the finish, but I would say there are possibly more who do not entertain the leaps of the mind that need to be nurtured, and this desire to finish becomes more about being a good student than about finishing something interesting. Where does work ethic fit in with writing? I think that’s pretty complicated from one writer to the next. You need some kind of work ethic, but what does it look like for you?”
— 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 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