She suddenly realizes that she may not know how to live without Masooma. She doesn’t know if she can. How will she bear the days when Masooma’s absence feels like a far heavier burden than her presenc...
People learned to live with themost unimaginable things.
People in the countryside carry a sense of dignity. They wear it, don't they? Like a badge? I'm being genuine.
One could not count the moons that shimmer on her roofs, Or the thousand splendid suns that hide behind her walls.
One could not count the moons that shimmer on her roofs,Or the thousand splendid suns that hide behind her walls.
Nothing wrong with cowardice as long as it comes with prudence. But when a coward stops remembering who he is... God help him.
Kabul had become a city of ghosts for me. A city of harelipped ghosts. America was different. America was a river, roaring along, unmindful of the past. I could wade into this river, let my sins drown...
James Parkinson. George Huntington. Robert Graves. John Down. Now this Lou Gehrig fellow of mine. How did men come to monopolize disease names too? I blink and my mother blinks back, and then she is l...
It's wrong to hurt even bad people. Because they don't know any better, and because bad people sometimes become good.
It was the kind of love that, sooner or later, cornered you into a choice: either you tore free or you stayed and withstood its rigor even as it squeezed you into something smaller than yourself.
Inside Laila too a battle was being waged : guilt on one side, partnered with shame, and, on the other, the conviction that what she and Tariq had done was not sinful; that it had been natural, good,...
I used to picture us as two leaves, blowing miles apart in the wind yet bound by the deep tangled roots of the tree from which we had both fallen.
I think he loved us equally, but differently.
I opened my mouth, almost said something. Almost. The rest of my life might have turned out differently if I had. But I didn’t.
I have a theory about marriage, Monsieur Boustouler. And it's that nearly always you will know within two weeks if it's going to work. It's astonishing how many people remain shackled for years, decad...
I found a sad little fairy Beneath the shade of a paper tree.I know a sad little fairyWho was blown away by the wind one night.
How glorious it was to know that her love for it already dwarfed anything she had ever felt as a human being
Here is what I do on the first day of snowfall every year: I step out of the house early in the morning, still in my pajamas, hugging my arms against the chill. I find the driveway, my father’s car, t...
Her eyes, walnut brown and shaded by fanned lashes, met mine. Held for a moment. Flew away.
He had a frozen, wide-eyed look to his face, I remember, the way some old people do, like they are perpetually startled by the monstrous surprise that is old age.