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Stella, I never knew you but here I am, in your room, a week after your death. ... I thought of you, Stella, and wondered if you watched your moments, or if they all snuck by. I whispered your name into the day, carried on for you in reverence, and I felt you rest and continue the smile.
--
"Stella's Earrings"

 

Vanna Bonta

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I’ve been educated in some pretty lively barrooms, like the Cedar Bar in New York. And I went to high school with Frank Stella and when he got out of college he went to New York and started painting… …I was working with sculpture in a kind of dilatory way, and he said to come up and work in his tiny loft when he wasn’t there. At the same time I sort of dabbled in a little bit of painting, and a kind of confusion.I was an eye, ear, nose, and throat person too... ...One day Frank Stella just said to me, “Look, if you paint another painting I’m going to cut off your hands.” I asked, “Can’t I become a good painter?” Frank said, “No, because you are a good sculptor now.” That’s really my formal education... ...the company of artists is the great education. We educate each other. I’ve learned from older, wiser people by the old Greek method of sitting down and drinking with them. And that’s how I received my education.

 

Carl Andre

 

“the greatest eye-wizard of the world!”
- Stella Kramrisch - Curator of Indian Art, Philadelphia Museum of Art, USA, c1980

 

Mani Madhava Chakyar

 

Two goddesses now must Cyprus adore;
The Muses are ten, the Graces are four;
Stella's wit is so charming, so sweet her fair face;
She shines a new Venus, a Muse, and a Grace.

 

Callimachus

 

I say with Didacus Stella, a dwarf standing on the shoulders of a giant may see farther than a giant himself.

 

Robert Burton

 

"A deathbed promise is the most sacred one there is," she hawked at him from the lungs that were almost, but not quite, filled up yet, "and I want you to make me this promise on my deathbed: Promise me you wont never hurt nobody unless its absolute a must, unless you jist have to do it."
"I promise you," he vowed to her, still waiting for the angels to appear. "Are you afraid?" he said.
"Give me your hand on it, boy. It is a deathbed promise, and you'll never break it."
"Yes maam," he said, giving her his hand, drawing it back quickly, afraid to touch the death he saw in her, unable to find anything beautiful or edifying or spiritually uplifting in this return to God. He watched a while longer for signs of immortality. No angels came, however, there was no earthquake, no cataclysm, and it was not until he had thought it over often this first death that he had had a part in that he discovered the single uplifting thing about it, that being the fact that in this last great period of fear her thought had been upon his future, rather than her own. He wondered often after that about his own death, how it would come, how it would feel, what it would be like to know that this breath, now, was the last one. It was hard to accept that he, who was the hub of this known universe, would cease to exist, but it was an inevitability and he did not shun it. He only hoped that he would meet it with the same magnificent indifference with which she who had been his mother met it. Because it was there, he felt, that the immortality he had not seen was hidden.

 

James Jones