There are hearts, reader, that never mend again once they are broken. Or if they do mend, they heal themselves in a crooked and lopsided way, as if sewn together by a careless craftsman.
Kate DiCamilloAbout author
- Author's profession: Author
- Nationality: american
- Born: March 25, 1964
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We passed a street minstrel who was singing in one of the more obscure Eastern languages, and I dropped a few orbs into his instrument case.
"Boss, was he singing what I thought he was singing?"
"A young man tells his beloved of his love for her."
" 'My little hairy testicle—' "
"It's a cultural thing, Loiosh. You wouldn't understand.
Steven Brust