“I'll serve something black. Bean soup, licorice, coffee. It'll be very grim, I promise. We'll cover the mirrors. We'll listen to Piaf. We'll read passages from Dostoyevsky.” — Stephanie Kallos Copy Share Image
“He was shorter than an average eight-year-old boy but exceptionally tall for a tulip.” — Stephanie Kallos Copy Share Image
“Her heart was finished. It bore, perhaps, records of life, but it wasn't alive. Too late for decoration. Too late for effects. Further handling… — Stephanie Kallos Copy Share Image
“The broken are not always gathered together,of course, and not all mysteries of the flesh are solved. We speak of "senseless tragedies" but really:… — Stephanie Kallos Copy Share Image
If God exists, He is there, in the small, cast-off pieces, rough and random and no two alike. — Stephanie Kallos Copy Share Image
“She soon learned, though, that giving weight to other people's opinions was creative nihilism; it was like being banished from the Land of No… — Stephanie Kallos Copy Share Image
“But in dying so suddenly her mother had become a riddle at the gate instead of the road you walked to get there.” — Stephanie Kallos Copy Share Image
“Love? It's when you don't give a thought to all the ifs and want-to's in the world. It's when if all the fires of… — Stephanie Kallos Copy Share Image
Sometimes a person can say I'm sorry a thousand times and that glue will never dry. — Stephanie Kallos Copy Share Image
“Look now. Look at what you value, what you hold dear. Objects, first. And not necessarily because of their innate value (although that might… — Stephanie Kallos Copy Share Image
“extras, in case you want to send some.” “Irma,” M.J. said. “Who am I going to write a postcard to? You’re the” — Stephanie Kallos Copy Share Image
“Less is less. Heartbreak is heartbreak. You think I'm sitting here gloating. Telling myself that my suffering beats yours? Hurt is hurt. You don't… — Stephanie Kallos Copy Share Image
